Chapter VII

The people went home through the sultry night, In a murky mood and a pitiful plight; Not more had the rockets' sticks gone down, Than the spirits of them who had "been to town;" Not more did the fire-balloon collapse, Than the pride of them who had known mishaps. There were feathers ruffled, and tempers roiled, And several brand-new dresses spoiled; There were hearts that ached from envy's thorns, And feet that twinged with trampled corns; There were joys proved empty, through and through, And several purses empty, too; And some reeled homeward, muddled and late, Who hadn't taken their glory straight; And some were fated to lodge, that night, In the city lock-up, snug and tight; And that was the way The deuce was to pay, As it always is, at the close of the day, That gave us-- _Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!_ (With some restrictions, the fault-finders say,) That which, please God, we will keep for aye-- Our National Independence!