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TRIP TO CAMBRIDGE.
'Twasthen he took his gloomy way' Astride his dapple donkeys,
And travelled well, both night and day Until he reach'd the Yankees
Away from camp, 'bout three miles off, From Lily he dismounted,3
His sergeant brush'd his sun-burnt wig While he the specie counted.
All prinked up in full bag-wig;
The shaking notwithstanding, In leathers tight, oh ! glorious sight!
He reach'd the Yankee landing."
The women ran, the darkeys too;
And all the bells, they tolled ; For Britain's sons, by Doodle doo,
We're sure to beŚconsoled.
Old mother Hancock with a pan All crowded full of butter,
Unto the lovely Georgius ran, And added to the splutter.