H. DE MARSAN, Publisher of Songs & ballads. —Toy-books, paper-dolls. 60 CHATHAM St. N. Y.
Squeak the fife and beat the drum,
Independence day is come,
Let the roasting pig be bled,
Quick twist off the rooster’s head
Quickly rub the pewter-platter,
Heap the nut cakes. Fried in butter;
Set the cups and beaker-glass,
The pumpkin and the apple sauce.
Send the keg to shop for brandy,
Maple sugar we have handy.
Independent, staggering Dick,
A noggin mix of swinging thick;
Sal, put on your russet skirt,
Jonathan, get you boughten shirt:
To-day we dance to tiddle diddle—
Here comes Sambo with his fiddle.
Sambo take a dram of whiskey,
And play us Yankey Doodle friskey,
Moll, come, leave your wicked tricks,
And let us have a reel of six.
Father and mother shall make two—
Sal, Moll, and I, stand all a row:
Sambo, play and dance with quality,
This is the day of blest equality.
Father and mother are but men,
And Sambo—is a citizen—
Come, foot it Sal—Moll, figure in,
And mother, you dance up to him,
Now saw as fast as ever you can do,
And father you cross o’er to sambo—
Thus we dance, and thus we play,
On glorious Independent Day.
Rub more rosin on your bow,
And let us have another go—
Zounds! as sure as eggs and bacon,
Here’s ensign Sneak, and uncle Deacon;
Aunt Thiah, and there’s Bets behind her,
On blundering mare, then beetle blinder,
And there’s the squire, too, with his lady:
Sal, hold the beast, I’ll take the baby.
Moll, bring the squire our great arm chair[ILL]
Good folks, we’re glad to see you here----
Jothan, get the great case-bottle,
Your teeth can pull the corn-cob stopple.
Ensign----Deacon, never mind,
Squire, drink until you’re blind----
Thus we drink, and dance away,
This Glorious Independent Day.