The musket's flash, the cannon's glow,
Thunder'd and lighten'd round,
Struck dread on all the tawny foe,
And swept them to the ground.
I thought what numbers must be slain,
What weeping widows left!
And aged parents full of pain,
Of every joy bereft.
The naked savage yelling round
Our heroes where they stood,
And every weapon to be found
Was bathed in human blood.
But bold Van Rensselaer, full of wounds,
Was quickly carried back;
Brave Colonel Bloom did next command
The bloody fierce attack.
[Where Brock, the proud insulter], rides
In pomp and splendor great;
Our valiant heroes he derides,
And dared the power of fate.
"Here is a mark for Yankee boys,
So shoot me if you can:"
A Yankee ball soon closed his eyes,
Death found him but a man.
They slaughter'd down the tawny foe,
And Britons that were near;
They dealt out death at every blow,
The battle was severe.
Five battles fought all in one day,
Through four victorious stood,
But ah! the fifth swept all away,
And spilt our heroes' blood.
The tomahawk and scalping-knife
On them did try their skill;
Some wounded, struggling for their life,
Did black barbarians kill.
Brave Wadsworth boldly kept the field
Till their last bullets flew;
Then all were prisoners forced to yield,
What could the general do?