But he hedn't no time for faintin', Nor he hedn't no time for pain; "It's well I'm left-handed!" says Gran'f'ther, An' he fired the gun again.
Bimeby, when the Colonel found him, Arter the fight was done, He was lyin', all black like a nigger, An' senseless, along by his gun.
Then the boys made a kind o' stretcher, An' jest as they laid him a-top, "The balls was all gone," he says, "Colonel, So I was obleeged to stop."
Yes! thet was the way Gret Gran'f'ther fit, An' the way he lost his arm; But he shot with his left till the land was free, An' then he kem back to the farm.
An' he laid his musket acrost them hooks, An' thar it's laid to this day; An' spite o' you an' the sparrers, Dan'l, Thar's whar it's a-goin' to stay.
The school-bell! run now, sonny boy! An' thank ye fer standin' still. What's thet? Ay! Hurrah fer Gret Gran'f'ther! An' hurrah fer Bunker Hill!
White wings over the water, Fluttering, fluttering over the sea, White wings over the water, What are you bringing to me? A fairy prince in a golden boat, With golden ringlets that fall and float, A velvet cap, and a taffety cloak, This you are bringing to me.
Fairy, fairy princekin, Sailing, sailing hither to me, Silk and satin and velvet, What are you coming to see? A little girl in a calico gown, With hair and eyes of dusky brown, Who sits on the wharf of the fishing-town, Looking away to sea.
Golden, golden sunbeams, Touch me now with your wands of gold; Make me a beautiful princess, Radiant to behold.
Blue and silver and ermine fine, Diamond drops that flash and shine; So shall I meet this prince of mine, Fairer than may be told.
White wings over the water, Fluttering ever farther away; Dark clouds shrouding the sunbeams, Sullen and cold and gray. Back I go in my calico gown, Back to the hut in the fishing-town. And oh, but the night shuts darkly down After the summer day!
[_All the children march, each singing a verse in turn, and all joining in the refrain._]
I am a German, Marching, marching. I am a German, Tum tum tum! Musket on shoulder, Who could be bolder, Tramping away at the sound of the drum.
_Chorus_. Bang! bang! bang! Hear the muskets rattle! Bang! bang! bang! bang! Now we'll have a battle. Shoot 'em through the head, Run 'em through the body! He who runs away Is called a Hoddy-Doddy.[1]