William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
On the British Blockade, and Expected Attack on New YorkPhilip Freneau (17521832)
O
The present times may surely rue
When told what England means to do;
The din of war salutes his ears,
That teased him not for thirty years.
To see a noisy naval train
Invest his bay, our fleets detain.
His rugged heights the blast must face,
The storm that menaces the place.
The soldier to the summit led,
And cannon planted on his head:
The country has a martial look,
And Quakers skulk in every nook.
We ask again with woful face,
To save the trade and guard the place?
The cannon at the embrasure,
Will British fleets attempt to moor?
To fill their pockets with our cash—
Their dealings now are rather harsh.
With such a fleet and such a host
As may devour us, boil’d or roast.
For what they got at Baltimore,
When, with disgrace, they left the shore,
On town and country, maid and man;
And all they fear is Fulton’s plan;
Whose blast may put them all to sleep,
Or ghostify them at a sweep.
Is hammering on his anvil too,
That frightens Christian, Turk and Jew.
Whoe’er with her a quarrel picks
Will little get but cuffs and kicks.
How can she else but torture them,
Be proof to all their fire and flame!
Of scalded heads and broken bones,
Discharged from iron-hearted guns.
Such suppers never did provide;
Such dinners roasted, boil’d, and fried.
If to attack they change blockade,
Their guard-ships shall be well repaid
With melted lead, and flaming shot,
With vollies of—I know not what.
Their wooden walls will be so heated,
Their ruin will be soon completed.
The Neversink repel their thunder,
And Cockburn miss a handsome plunder.