Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
Independence Day
By Royall Tyler (1757–1826)S
Independence day is come!!
Let the roasting pig be bled,
Quick twist off the cockerel’s head,
Quickly rub the pewter platter,
Heap the nutcakes, fried in butter.
Set the cups, and beaker glass,
The pumpkin and the apple sauce;
Send the keg to shop for brandy;
Maple sugar we have handy.
Independent, staggering Dick,
A noggin mix of swingeing thick;
Sal, put on your russet skirt,
Jotham, get your boughten shirt,
To-day we dance to tiddle diddle.
—Here comes Sambo with his fiddle;
Sambo, take a dram of whiskey,
And play up Yankee Doodle frisky.
Moll, come leave your witched tricks,
And let us have a reel of six.
Father and mother shall make two;
Sal, Moll and I stand all a-row;
Sambo, play and dance with quality;
This is the day of blest equality.
Father and mother are but men,
And Sambo—is a citizen.
Come foot it, Sal—Moll, figure in,
And mother, you dance up to him;
Now saw as fast as e’er you can do,
And father, you cross o’er to Sambo.
—Thus we dance, and thus we play,
On glorious independent day.—
Rub more rosin on your bow,
And let us have another go.
Zounds! as sure as eggs and bacon,
Here’s ensign Sneak, and Uncle Deacon,
Aunt Thiah, and their Bets behind her,
On blundering mare, than beetle blinder.
And there’s the ’Squire too, with his lady—
Sal, hold the beast, I’ll take the baby.
Moll, bring the ’Squire our great arm chair;
Good folks, we’re glad to see you here.
Jotham, get the great case bottle,
Your teeth can pull its corn-cob stopple.
Ensign,—Deacon, never mind;
’Squire, drink until you’re blind.
Come, here’s the French—and Guillotine,
And here is good ’Squire Gallatin,
And here’s each noisy Jacobin.
Here’s friend Madison so hearty,
And here’s confusion to the treaty.
Come, one more swig to Southern Demos
Who represent our brother negroes.
Thus we drink and dance away,
This glorious I