The fort being high above their trench,
To see their work it was no pinch,
Dung hill like on a rock ’twas laid:
In form of a potatoe-bed.
With tow and tar when it was dark
He let them see to do their wark,
Which as a lamp burnt on their trench,
Caus’d many die who thought to quench’t.
They skirmish’d on, both night and day,
With cannons and small arms did play: