 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
609
THE RAID ON RAMAPO.
Amid the ridges of Ramapo
The Garrabrant homestead stands,
And ever and ever it overlooks
The rolling and lower lands.
Though peaceful now, there was turmoil then,
And hurrying to and fro,
When Jack the Regular's men came there
A hundred years ago.
The Garrabrant homestead stands,
And ever and ever it overlooks
The rolling and lower lands.
Though peaceful now, there was turmoil then,
And hurrying to and fro,
When Jack the Regular's men came there
A hundred years ago.
Jan Garrabrant owned the acres 'round,
And Jan had a pair of sons
Who were ready to wield the scythe or flail,
Or handle at need their guns.
They called them rebels, perchance they were,
Who hated the Tories much;
And the Tory leader swore the three
Should feel his royal clutch.
And Jan had a pair of sons
Who were ready to wield the scythe or flail,
Or handle at need their guns.
They called them rebels, perchance they were,
Who hated the Tories much;
And the Tory leader swore the three
Should feel his royal clutch.
Rode hastily there Pete Huyler's girl,
And to Betty, the wife, she said:
“The Tories have ridden from Paulus Hoeck,
And Jack is at their head;
They are firing houses and slaying kine
In the country far and near!
They swear they'll burn the Garrabrants out,
And they're not three miles from here.”
And to Betty, the wife, she said:
“The Tories have ridden from Paulus Hoeck,
And Jack is at their head;
They are firing houses and slaying kine
In the country far and near!
They swear they'll burn the Garrabrants out,
And they're not three miles from here.”
Then she laid her whip on her horse's flank,
And was off with a leap and bound,
For her father had sent the maiden out
To rouse the country around;
While Betty ran out to where she'd see
Jan and her sons in the corn,
And she blew a blast with right good will
On the battered dinner-horn.
And was off with a leap and bound,
For her father had sent the maiden out
To rouse the country around;
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Jan and her sons in the corn,
And she blew a blast with right good will
On the battered dinner-horn.
Home in a hurry came sons and sire,
And when the tidings they heard,
Rip stabled the horses, Dick herded the kine,
And neither one uttered a word.
Jan loaded the guns—he had seven in all—
“We have three for defence!” said he;
“One more,” said Betty; “you'll not forget
To count in a fight on me.”
And when the tidings they heard,
Rip stabled the horses, Dick herded the kine,
And neither one uttered a word.
Jan loaded the guns—he had seven in all—
“We have three for defence!” said he;
“One more,” said Betty; “you'll not forget
To count in a fight on me.”
They barred the windows and bolted the doors,
And waited the coming foe,
Till they heard the clatter of iron hoofs
Afar in the valley below.
It nearer came, and suddenly stopped,
And the air around was still;
And they knew Jack's men had tethered each horse
And were climbing on foot the hill.
And waited the coming foe,
Till they heard the clatter of iron hoofs
Afar in the valley below.
It nearer came, and suddenly stopped,
And the air around was still;
And they knew Jack's men had tethered each horse
And were climbing on foot the hill.
Then up came a scout to summon the house—
“We offer you quarter,” said he;
“So make no fight against order and law;
The king's loyal subjects are we.
He offers through us his mercy to show;
You'd better throw open the door,
For we're twenty-five, and you are but three.”
“Oh, no!” replied Betty; “we're four!”
“We offer you quarter,” said he;
“So make no fight against order and law;
The king's loyal subjects are we.
He offers through us his mercy to show;
You'd better throw open the door,
For we're twenty-five, and you are but three.”
“Oh, no!” replied Betty; “we're four!”
Betty Garrabrant levelled her firelock and drew
A bead on the Tory's head;
The bullet leapt out with whistle and whirr,
And down dropped the partisan dead.
Cried Jack, when he saw it: “We'll have revenge!
Come, hurry there, some of you men!
Pile fagots and torch at the side of the house;
We'll burn the she-wolf in her den!”
A bead on the Tory's head;
The bullet leapt out with whistle and whirr,
And down dropped the partisan dead.
611
Come, hurry there, some of you men!
Pile fagots and torch at the side of the house;
We'll burn the she-wolf in her den!”
They had better have stayed with the rest of the band,
For the three whom he sent were slain,
And Jack felt a ball bore a hole in his arm—
Said Betty: “'Twas meant for your brain!”
So the Tories drew back behind out-house and trees,
And fired without order or plan;
But when those in the house found a foeman exposed,
The bullet ne'er failed of its man.
For the three whom he sent were slain,
And Jack felt a ball bore a hole in his arm—
Said Betty: “'Twas meant for your brain!”
So the Tories drew back behind out-house and trees,
And fired without order or plan;
But when those in the house found a foeman exposed,
The bullet ne'er failed of its man.
They kept up the siege till the hour of four,
But they never the leaguered stirred;
Then suddenly in the distance far
A dull, low patter they heard.
'Twas the steady thud of galloping horse,
With the riders eager for fight;
And the Tories scattered, and backed their steeds,
And were off in a headlong flight.
But they never the leaguered stirred;
Then suddenly in the distance far
A dull, low patter they heard.
'Twas the steady thud of galloping horse,
With the riders eager for fight;
And the Tories scattered, and backed their steeds,
And were off in a headlong flight.
But the farmers who came from house and field,
With firelocks ready and sure,
They followed the knaves till twilight fell
O'er valley and hill and moor.
Seven Tories were left on the Garrabrant farm,
And seventeen by the way;
And Jack the Regular rode alone
To the Hoeck from the bloody fray.
With firelocks ready and sure,
They followed the knaves till twilight fell
O'er valley and hill and moor.
Seven Tories were left on the Garrabrant farm,
And seventeen by the way;
And Jack the Regular rode alone
To the Hoeck from the bloody fray.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |