Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.

Johnny Bull’s Big Guns

SURE, have you not heard of that pesky John Bull,

Who eternally quarrels and acts like a fool,

With his big guns and rockets, and pumpkin-shell bombs?

The prints they all tell us, you know they won’t lie,

They ’press’d all our seamen, gave no reason why;

Took all the fine vessels our carpenters made,

And they scared us so deucedly that no one dare trade,

With their big guns and rockets and pumpkin-shell bombs.

Our Jemmy he bore it, though grit to the bone,

Saying, “You’d better be easy, and let us alone,

With your big guns and rockets and pumpkin-shell bombs.

Why, what in the world do you mean by this fuss?

We don’t trouble you, why put upon us?

You had better be easy, and mind what you’re about,

Or a slap in your blubber-chops will make you look out,

With your big guns and rockets and pumpkin-shell bombs.”

Then at it we went, as they gave us no peace,

And we flogg’d them a dozen times, sleek, sir, as grease,

With our long guns and muskets and pumpkin-shell bombs.

A twelvemonth ago you got nicely beat;

On some tarnal big pond, Perry took your whole fleet,

And then on another pond, not quite so big,

M’Donough has run you another such rig,

With his long guns and muskets and pumpkin-shell bombs.

And now, as I said, ’twas a year and a day

Since Perry he show’d you such true Yankee play,

With his long guns and muskets and pumpkin-shell bombs.

That famous M’Donough poked into your muns,

What you could not swallow, right out of our guns;

Gave your whole fleet a whipping and caused them to strike,

And I guess that’s a joke that you did not much like,

With your big guns and rockets and pumpkin-shell bombs.

Why can’t you be easy and let us alone?

We Yankees want nothing but what is our own,

With our long guns and muskets and pumpkin-shell bombs.

We have rusty old muskets and bayonets enough,

And our dads had a chance of trying their stuff;

They fought like Old Nick for our freedom and fame,

And d——n the mean coward that won’t do the same,

With his long guns and muskets and pumpkin-shell bombs.

At length Johnny Bull he got tired of such fun,

And concluded ’twas best to pack up and run

With his big guns and rockets and pumpkin-shell bombs.

If he comes here again on another such game,

He’ll find that the Yankees are still the same;

They’ll kick him, and cuff him, and knock him about,

That he’ll scarcely be able to get out of port,

With his big guns and rockets and pumpkin-shell bombs.