William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
Come out, Ye ContinentalersC
We’re going for to go
To fight the red-coat enemy,
Who’re plaguy “cute,” you know.
Front!—Davis, wipe your nose—
Port whoop!—that’s slick—now, carry whoop!
Mike Jones, turn out your toes.
Now, quick time!—march!—that’s right;
Just so we’d poke the enemy,
If they were but in sight.
By platoons, wheel!—halt—dress!
Hold up your muzzles on the left;
No talking, more or less.
We’re going for to travel;
“Captain, I wants to halt a bit,
My shoe is full of gravel.”
Now point your toes, Bob Rogers;
See! yonder are the red-coat men—
Let fly upon ’em, sogers.