On Calvert's plains new faction reigns,
Great Britain we defy, sir,
True Liberty lies gagg'd in chains,
Though freedom is the cry, sir.
The Congress, and their factious tools,
Most wantonly oppress us,
Hypocrisy triumphant rules,
And sorely does distress us.
The British bands with glory crown'd,
No longer shall withstand us;
Our martial deeds loud fame shall sound
[Since mad Lee now commands us].
Triumphant soon a blow he'll strike,
That all the world shall awe, sir,
And General Gage, Sir Perseus like,
Behind his wheels he'll draw, sir.
When Gallic hosts, ungrateful men,
Our race meant to extermine,
Pray did committees save us then,
Or Hancock, or such vermin?
Then faction spurn! think for yourselves!
Your parent state, believe me,
From real griefs, from factious elves,
Will speedily relieve ye.
Rivington's Gazetteer.
Such effusions as the "Massachusetts Liberty Song" became immensely popular, and bands of liberty-loving souls met nightly to sing them.
[MASSACHUSETTS SONG OF LIBERTY]
Come swallow your bumpers, ye Tories, and roar
That the Sons of fair Freedom are hamper'd once more;
But know that no Cut-throats our spirits can tame,
Nor a host of Oppressors shall smother the flame.
In Freedom we're born, and, like Sons of the brave,
Will never surrender,
But swear to defend her,
And scorn to survive, if unable to save.