Published by Chas. Magnus, 12 Frankfort St., N. Y.
Father and I went down to camp,
Along with Captain Gooding:
There we see the men and boys,
As thick as hasty-pudding.
Yankee doddle keep it up,
Yankee doodle dandy;
Mind the music and the step,
And with the girls be ha
And there we see a thousand men,
As rich as Squire David;
And what they wasted every day,
I wish it could be saved.
The ‘lasses they eat every day,
Would keep a house a winter;
They have as much that I’ll be bound,
They eat it when they’re a mind to.
And there we see a swamping gun,
Large as a log of maple,
Upon a duced little cart,
A load for father’s cattle.
And every time they shoot it off,
It takes a horn of powder:
It makes a noise like father’s gun,
Only a nation louder,
I went as nigh to one myself,
As’ Siah’s under-pinning;
And father went as nigh again,
I thought the dence was in him.
Cousin Simon grew so bold,
I thought he would have cock’d it;
It scared me so I streak’d it off,
And hung by father’s pocket.
But Captain Davis has a gun,
He kind of clap’d his hand on’t,
And stuck a crooked stabing iron.
Upon the little end on’t.
And there I see a pumkin shell,
As big as mother’s bason.
And every time they thouch’d it off,
They scamper’d like the nation.
I see a little barrel too,
The heads were made of leather,
They knock’d upon it with little clubs,
And call’d the folks together.
And there was captain Washington,
And gentle folks about him;
They say he’s grown so tarnal proud,
He will not ride without ’em.
He got him on his meeting clothes,
Upon a slapping stallion;
He set the world along in rows,
In hundreds and in millions.
The flaming ribbons in their hats,
They look’d so tearing fine, ah;
I wanted plaguily to get,
To give to my Jemima
I see another snarl of men,
A digging graves, they told me,
So tarnal long, so tarnal deep,
They ‘tended they should hold me.
It scar’d me so, I hook’d it off,
Nor stopp’d, as I remember;
Nor turn’d about till I got home,
Lock’d up in mother’s chamber: