Slacked his march; but did discover
The English bloody flag behind,
And colours waving in the wind.
To range their rear they were not slow,
But the front, of this they did not know.
At the village Clifton, in Westmoreland,
They prudently pitch’d out a stand,
At a Quaker’s house stood near the way,
Which rous’d his sp’rit ’bove Yea and Nay:
Behind the hedges, walls and lones,