To southern climes the shipping flew,
And anchored in Virginia,
When Champe escaped and join'd his friends
Among the picininni.
Base Arnold's head, by luck, was sav'd,
Poor André was gibbeted;
Arnold's to blame for André's fame,
And André's to be pitied.
After the flurry consequent upon André's capture and execution, affairs at New York settled back into the old routine. A sort of lethargy seemed to possess the British leaders, and the Americans grew bolder and bolder, sometimes pushing their foraging expeditions within the British lines, and on one occasion seizing a quantity of hay and setting fire to some houses within sight of Clinton's quarters. The next day, the Loyalist disgust was voiced in some verses written by Joseph Stansbury and stuck up about the town.
A NEW SONG
[1780]
"Has the Marquis La Fayette
Taken off all our hay yet?"
Says Clinton to the wise heads around him:
"Yes, faith, Sir Harry,
Each stack he did carry,
And likewise the cattle—confound him!
"Besides, he now goes,
Just under your nose,
To burn all the houses to cinder."
"If that be his project,
It is not an object
Worth a great man's attempting to hinder.
"For forage and house
I care not a louse;
For revenge, let the Loyalists bellow:
I swear I'll not do more
To keep them in humor,
Than play on my violoncello.
"Since Charleston is taken,
'Twill sure save my bacon,—
I can live a whole year on that same, sir;
Ride about all the day,
At night, concert or play;
So a fig for the men that dare blame, sir.
"If growlers complain,
I inactive remain—
Will do nothing, nor let any others!
'Tis sure no new thing
To serve thus our king—
Witness Burgoyne, and two famous Brothers!"