God help us all to look our best! This man was captain of the rest, And valor seem'd to fire his breast With martial rage.
His horse was of an iron grey; (A prancing steed he rode that day,) Not of the bold virginian breed, Nor yet remote from Quixote's steed.
This chief was of the bullet mould; To meet the conflict, firm and bold, His coat was patch'd, his boots new soal'd, Ham stuff'd his maw:
Two pounds of powder fill'd his horn, His pantaloons were old and worn, A cap and hat his head adorn-- The chapeau bras.
With vengeance heated, long in store, He sallied forth, a man of war; And all that meet him, pray take care Of rusty pikes.
He had no helmet for the head, But death and ruin near him tread, And slaughter, in a suit of red, That deadly strikes.
A blanket from his shoulders hung, Three dollars in his pockets rung, And to his thigh a faulchion clung, That made us quake:
A veteran in the fighting trade! The owner of so keen a blade! Do not provoke him, man or maid, For mercy's sake.
O could you but one furlong ride With such a faulchion at your side, Your bosom would for glory beat And show Napoleon all complete!
Two pistols, to his girdle tied, Foreboded vengeance, far and wide, To all that were not on our side, With heart and hand.
Accoutred thus, with martial air, He gave the warning word, "Take care!" And, in a moment, all was war, Sublime and grand.
They march'd, and march'd, as thick as bees. Then march'd towards a clump of trees; And "blaze away!" the leader says-- "Each take his aim!
"Who wounds a tree can kill a man-- "If you but practise on that plan, "The britons shall go home again With grief and shame!"
Not Philip's famed, unrivall'd son, For Greece subdued, or India won, Not Cockburn, burning Washington, Look'd so elate:
Not Bonaparte, on Egypt's sands With such importance gave commands, With such discretion train'd his bands, Assumed such state!
Not Caesar, when he pass'd the Rhine, Not Marlborough leading up his line, Not Perry, when he said, "they're mine!" Put on such airs;--
As now were shown to front and rear When victory seem'd to hover near. Indeed not purchased very dear-- No wounds nor scars.
Departing from the norman shore, Not William such a feature wore When England hail'd him conqueror, With loud acclaim: