. . .Twas early day, as poets say,
Just as the sun was rising,
A soldier stood on a log of wood
And saw a thing surprising.
As in amaze he stood to gaze,
The truth can’t be denied, sir,
He spied a score of kegs or more
Come floating down the tide, sir.
* * * * * These kegs, I’m told, the rebels hold
Packed up like pickled herring,
And they’re coming down to attack the town,
In this new way of ferrying.
* * * * * Therefore prepare for bloody war,
The kegs must all be routed,
Or surely we despised shall be
And British valor doubted.
The royal band now ready stand
All ranged in dread array, sir,
With stomach stout to see it out
And make a bloody day, sir.
The cannon roar from shore to shore,
The small arms make a rattle,
Since wars began, I’m sure no man
E’er saw so strange a battle.
The kegs, ’tis said, tho. . . Read More