How the conquerors wore their laurels—how they hastened on the trials—
How Old Brown was placed, half-dying, on the Charlestown Court-House floor—
How he spoke his grand oration, in the scorn of all denials—
What the brave old madman told them—these are known the country o’er.
“Hang Old Brown,
Osawatomie Brown,”
Said the Judge, “and all such rebels!” with his most judicial frown.
But, Virginians, don’t do it! for I tell you that the flagon,
Filled with blood of Old Brown’s offspring, was first poured by Southern hands:
And each drop from Old Brown’s life-veins, like the red gore of the dragon,