The soldier of honor and liberty hail!
His deeds in the temple of Fame are enrolled;
His precepts, like flower-seeds sown by the gale,
Take root in the hearts of the valiant and bold.
The warrior's escutcheon his foes seek to blot,
But vain is the effort of partisan bands—
For freemen will render full justice to SCOTT,
And welcome him home with their hearts in their hands.
The Origin of Yankee Doodle. [See Note]
Once in a time old Johnny Bull
Flew in a raging fury,
And swore that Jonathan should have
No trials, sir, by jury;
That no elections should be held
Across the briny waters:
"And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea
Of all his sons and daughters."
Then down he sate in burly state,
And blustered like a grandee,
And in derision made a tune
Called "Yankee doodle dandy."
"Yankee doodle"—these are the facts—
"Yankee doodle dandy;
My son of wax, your tea I'll tax—
You—Yankee doodle dandy!"
John sent the tea from o'er the sea
With heavy duties rated;
But whether hyson or bohea,
I never heard it stated.
Then Jonathan to pout began—
He laid a strong embargo—
"I'll drink no tea, by Jove!"—so he
Threw overboard the cargo.
Next Johnny sent an armament,
Big looks and words to bandy,
Whose martial band, when near the land,
Played—"Yankee doodle dandy."
"Yankee doodle—keep it up!
Yankee doodle dandy!
I'll poison with a tax your cup—
You—Yankee doodle dandy!"
A long war then they had, in which
John was at last defeated;
And "Yankee doodle" was the march
To which his troops retreated.
Young Jonathan, to see them fly,
Could not restrain his laughter:
"That tune," said he, "suits to a T,
I'll sing it ever after!"
Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace,
Was flushed with beer and brandy,
E'en while he swore to sing no more
This—"Yankee doodle dandy."
Yankee doodle—ho! ha! he!
Yankee doodle dandy—
We kept the tune, but not the tea,
Yankee doodle dandy!
I've told you now the origin
Of this most lively ditty,
Which Johnny Bull pronounces "dull
And silly!"—what a pity!
With "Hail Columbia!" it is sung,
In chorus full and hearty—
On land and main we breathe the strain,
John made for his tea-party.
No matter how we rhyme the words,
The music speaks them handy,
And where's the fair can't sing the air
Of "Yankee doodle dandy!"
"Yankee doodle—firm and true—
Yankee doodle dandy,
Yankee doodle, doodle doo!
Yankee doodle dandy!"
Lines
On the Burial of Mrs. Mary L. Ward, at Dale Cemetery, Sing-Sing, May 3, 1853.
The knell was tolled—the requiem sung,
The solemn burial-service read;
And tributes from the heart and tongue
Were rendered to the dead.
The dead?—Religion answers, "No!
She is not dead—She can not die!
A mortal left this vale of wo!—
An angel lives on high!"