ON Christmas-day in seventy-six,
Our ragged troops
with bayonets fixed,
For Trenton marched away.
The
Delaware see! the boats below!
The light obscured by hail
and snow!
But no signs of dismay.
Our object was
the Hessian band,
That dared invade fair freedom's land,
And quarter in that place.
Great Washington he led us on,
Whose streaming flag, in storm or sun,
Had never known
disgrace.
In silent march we passed the night,
Each soldier panting for the fight,
Though quite benumbed
with frost.
Greene, on the left, at six began,
The
right was led by Sullivan,
Who ne'er a moment lost.
Their pickets stormed, the alarm was spread,
That
rebels risen from the dead
Were marching into town.
Some scampered here, some scampered there,
And some for
action did prepare;
But soon their arms laid down.
Twelve hundred servile miscreants,
With all their
colors, guns, and tents,
Were trophies of the day.
The
frolic o'er, the bright canteen
In centre, front, and
rear was seen
Driving fatigue away.
Now, brothers
of the patriot bands,
Let 's sing deliverance from the
hands
Of arbitrary sway.
And as our life is but a
span,
Let 's touch the tankard while we can,
In memory
of that day. |
