Know little of what’s going on, save just on either hand;
And much of my recital thee will find much better told
In some well-written chronicle made in the days of old.
BATTLE OF TRENTON.
But I could tell thee all about the crossing ere the day,
The marching up to Birmingham, the silence by the way,
The rushing into Trenton with friend Sullivan and those;
And how when first we saw the foe a mighty shouting rose;
And I can tell thee something more which no one else could do—