William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
British LamentationC
That walk by land or sail by sea,
Come, hear the words of a dying man;
I’m sure you will remember them.
As by record doth appear;
’Twas on the fourteenth day of May,
Our fleet set sail for America.
When we set sail for the northern clime;
Our drums did beat, and trumpets sound,
And unto Boston we were bound.
We thought by our British drums
To drive those rebels from the place,
Which fill’d our hearts with sore disgrace.
We saw them like grasshoppers rise;
They fight like heroes much enraged,
Which surely frighten’d General Gage.
Spread death and slaughter from their guns.
Freedom or death! those heroes cry,
I’m sure they’re not afraid to die.
They fear no danger nor dismay;
True British blood runs through their veins,
And them with courage yet sustains.
By the loss of many a Briton bold,
To make those rebels own their king,
And daily tribute to him bring.
False to the state where they belong’d,
They told us we might gain the day,
There was no danger, they did say.
And that our armies might be safe,
Burn down your towns, lay waste your land,
In spite of all your boasting bands.
And in it grows a bitter weed,
Which will put down our brightest hopes,
And sorely wound our British troops.
Since first we came to America:
Full fifteen hundred have been slain,
Bold British heroes every one.
I bid adieu to Old England’s ground:
My wife and children mourn for me,
When I lay cold in America.
Fear not Old England’s thundering noise;
Maintain your rights from year to year,
God’s on your side—you need not fear.
Is now eclipsed for a while,
It shining bright in meridian year,
Because our king was quite severe.
A reward for all his cruelty:
Americans will their rights maintain,
While proud Old England sinks in shame.