Chapter V

The eager orator took the stand, In the cause of our great and happy land; He aired his own political views, He told us all of the latest news: How the Boston folks one night took tea-- Their grounds for steeping it in the sea; What a heap of Britons our fathers did kill, At the little skirmish of Bunker Hill; He put us all in anxious doubt As to how that matter was coming out; And when at last he had fought us through To the bloodless year of '82, 'Twas the fervent hope of every one That he, as well as the war, was done. But he continued to painfully soar For something less than a century more; Until at last he had fairly begun The wars of eighteen-sixty-one; And never rested till 'neath the tree That shadowed the glory of Robert Lee. And then he inquired, with martial frown, "Americans, must we go down?" And as an answer from Heaven were sent, The stand gave way, and down he went. A singer or two beneath him did drop-- A big fat alderman fell atop; And that was the way Our orator lay, Till we fished him out, on the eloquent day, That gave us-- _Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!_ (With a clash of arms, Pat. Henry would say,) Our wordy Independence!