William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
Royal SportT
In Europe was hunted as royal fair game;
Eluding the chase of his Albion foes,
He sought in Columbia a place to repose.
Fol, lol, &c.
Took scent of the genius and follow’d his track,
Asserting their title to hunt on the ground,
Wherever his majesty’s game could be found.
Fol, lol, &c.
Such savage-like sporting determined to spoil;
Resolved like freemen their rights to maintain,
And drove the fell pack to their kennel again.
Fol, lol, &c.
Unkennell’d, uncoupled, and all in full cry,
And driving full speed to be in at the death,
To wind the shrill horn upon Freedom’s last breath.
Fol, lol, &c.
And merciless Indians united with these;
At the sound of the bugle they follow the track,
And join in the chase with the old British pack.
Fol, lol, &c.
Unpunish’d they shall not long sport with our laws;
For, lashing the puppies half trained to the chase,
We’ll send them to Scotia again in disgrace.
Fol, lol, &c.
Fair Freedom shall ne’er be entrapp’d in their toils;
Like true-blooded Yankees, we’ll smoke their stale tricks,
And play them the game of old seventy-six.
Fol, lol, &c.
His bullies may bluster, his war-dogs may howl;
Like our fathers, our freedom we’ll ever maintain;
They beat the whole pack, and we’ll beat them again.
Fol, lol, &c.