But if he falls ’tis he alone and Johnny Broome to blame.
“Tho’ with your gallant countrymen peace was my only aim,
Boston, New York, and Washington my prowess can proclaim,
And never in my proud career white feather did I show;
Nor ever cut a friend in need, nor shrunk before a foe.”
December sixth in darkness broke, the dawn was chill and damp,
And numerous Fancy toddlers betimes were on the tramp;
Corinthian swells and commoners made simultaneous rush
To Sawbridgeworth, in Hertfordshire, through muck, and mire, and slush.
But how the beaks in wrath proclaim’d, amid the motley race,