Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

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

General Burgoyne and the Boston Blockade

It is well known that General Burgoyne aspired to the double laurels of the dramatist and soldier. He was the author of several comedies and farces, some of which yet keep possession of the stage, and have frequently been published; but one piece called the “Boston Blockade” has, I believe, never passed through the hands of the printer. During the time of the occupation of the trimountainous city, the royalists used to make themselves merry with amateur theatricals. Old Faneuil Hall was converted from a temple of Liberty into a temple of Thespis; and Burgoyne, being unable to subdue the Yankees by the sword, resorted to the pen and buskin to overpower them with ridicule. I am indebted to the tenacious memory of an old lady, who remembers being present at the representation of the “Boston Blockade, for the following specimen, which formed the finale to the piece, the stanzas being separately sung by four of the principal characters; a lady, an old gentleman, a negress, and a young royalist, who was the hero of the affair.

YE ladies who find the time hang on your hands—

Thus kept in a cage by the enemy’s bands,

Like me, choose a mate from the numerous crew,

As brave as my soldier, as tender and true.

With such a companion, confinement has charms;

Each place is a paradise, clasp’d in his arms;

And, only of absence and distance afraid,

You’ll bless the small circle of “Boston Blockade.”

Ye tar-barrel law-givers, Yankeefied pigs,

Who are tyrants in custom, in theory whigs,

In return for the favours you’ve lavish’d on me,

May I see you all hang’d upon liberty tree.

Meantime, take example and cease from attack,

You’re weak in your arms as I am in my back;

In law and in love we alike are betray’d,

And alike are the laughter of “Boston Blockade.”

Your pardon, my massa, one word to intrude,

I’m sure in my heart you will not tink me rude;

Though in public you scoff, I see many a spark

Would tink me a sweet, pretty girl in the dark.

Thus runs the world merrily on with Fan-fan,

She eat good salt pork, and get kiss’d by white man;

Me do missy business, she pleased, and I paid,

Egad! me no tired of de “Boston Blockade.”

Huzza, then, ye comrades of honour and truth,

Experienced age and high-spirited youth,

With drum and with fife make our chorus more shrill,

And echo shall waft it to Washington’s hill.

All brave British hearts shall beat time as we sing,

Due force to our arms, and long life to our king!

For the honour of both be our banner display’d,

And a glorious end to the “Boston Blockade!”