Strait unto these the sergeant went,
And left old Rip, all standing,
A-waiting for the blown cornet,
At Squire Van Deusen's landing.
The troopers didn't gallop home,
But rested from their labors;
And some 'tis said took gingerbread
And cider from the neighbors.
'Twas just at eve the troopers reach'd
The camp they left that morning.
Champe's empty saddle, unto Lee,
Gave an unwelcome warning.
"If Champe has suffered, 'tis my fault;"
So thought the generous major;
"I would not have his garment touch'd
For millions on a wager!"
The cornet told him all he knew,
Excepting of the cider.
The troopers, all, spurred very well,
But Champe was the best rider!
And so it happen'd that brave Champe
Unto Sir Hal deserted,
Deceiving him, and you, and me,
And into York was flirted.
He saw base Arnold in his camp,
Surrounded by the legion,
And told him of the recent prank
That threw him in that region.
Then Arnold grinn'd, and rubb'd his hands,
And e'enmost choked with pleasure,
Not thinking Champe was all the while
A "taking of his measure."
"Come now," says he, "my bold soldier,
As you're within our borders,
Let's drink our fill, old care to kill,
To-morrow you'll have orders."
Full soon the British fleet set sail!
Say! wasn't that a pity?
For thus it was brave Sergeant Champe
Was taken from the city.