His front to fall some paces back,
And then the cannon began to crack.
Grape them, Grape them, did he cry,
Then rank and file he made them ly;
When bags of balls were fir’d at once,
Where they did spread, hard was the chance:
It hew’d them down, aye, score by score,
As grass doth fall before the mow’r.
Breaches they made as large and broad,
As avenues in thro’ a wood;