[December 19, 1675]
I
Oh, rouse you, rouse you, men at arms,
And hear the tale I tell,
From [Pettaquamscut town] I come,
Now hear what there befell.
The houses stand upon the hill,
Not large, each house is full,
But largest of them all there stood
The house of Justice Bull.
'Twas there the court sat every year,
The governor came in state,
From there the couriers through the town
Served summons soon and late.
And there, 'tis but three years agone,
[George Fox] preached, you remember;
That was in May when he preached peace,
And now it is December.
Peace, peace, he cried, but righteous God,
How can there be true peace,
When war and tumult stalk at night,
And deeds of blood increase?
Revenge, revenge, good captains bold,
Revenge, my people cry;
Where stood the house of Justice Bull
But piled-up ashes lie.
How fared it then, who may dare tell?
The shutters barred the light,
As one by one the windows closed,
And all was black as night.
Strong was the house, and strong brave men
All armed lay down to sleep,
And women fair, and children, too,
They were to guard and keep.
And then a horror in the night,
And shouts, and fire, and knives,
And demons yelling in delight,
As men fought for their lives.