Jest fer a moment, I've heard him say,
The hull world seemed to reel;
An' a hummin' sound went through his ears,
Like Gran'm'ther's spinnin'-wheel.
But he hedn't no time for faintin',
Nor he hedn't no time for pain;
"It's well I'm left-handed!" says Gran'f'ther,
An' he fired the gun again.
Bimeby, when the Colonel found him,
Arter the fight was done,
He was lyin', all black like a nigger,
An' senseless, along by his gun.
Then the boys made a kind o' stretcher,
An' jest as they laid him a-top,
"The balls was all gone," he says, "Colonel,
So I was obleeged to stop."
Yes! thet was the way Gret Gran'f'ther fit,
An' the way he lost his arm;
But he shot with his left till the land was free,
An' then he kem back to the farm.
An' he laid his musket acrost them hooks,
An' thar it's laid to this day;
An' spite o' you an' the sparrers, Dan'l,
Thar's whar it's a-goin' to stay.
The school-bell! run now, sonny boy!
An' thank ye fer standin' still.
What's thet? Ay! Hurrah fer Gret Gran'f'ther!
An' hurrah fer Bunker Hill!
