"For they were in their pleasant beddes,
And soundlie sleeping, when
Each door was sudden open broke
By six or seven menne!
"The menne and women, younge and olde,
And eke the girls and boys,
All started up in great affright
Att the alarming noise.
"They then were murthered in their beddes
Without shame or remorse;
And soon the floors and streets were strew'd
With many a bleeding corse.
"The village soon began to blaze,
Which shew'd the horrid sight;
But, O, I scarce can beare to tell
The mis'ries of that night.
"They threw the infants in the fire,
The menne they did not spare;
But killed all which they could find,
Tho' aged or tho' fair.
. . . . . .
. . . . . .
"But some run off to Albany
And told the doleful tale;
Yett, tho' we gave our chearful aid,
It did not much avail.
"And we were horribly afraid,
And shook with terror, when
They gave account the Frenchmen were
More than a thousand menne.
"The news came on a Sabbath morn,
Just att ye break o' day;
And with my companie of horse
I galloped away.
"Our soldiers fell upon their reare,
And killed twenty-five;
Our young menne were so much enrag'd
They took scarce one alive.