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A NEW WAR SONG.
With much labor and toil,
Unto Sullivan's Isle,2 I came firm as Falstaff or Pistol,
But the Yankees, 'od rot 'em,
I could not get at 'em : Most terribly niaul'd my poor Bristol.*
Bold Clinton by land,4
Did quietly stand, While I made a thundering clatter;
But the channel was deep,
So he only could peep, And not venture over the water.
De'el take 'em, their shot
Came so swift and so hot, And the cowardly dogs b stood so stiff, sirs!
That I put ship about,
And was glad to get out, Or they would not have left me a skiff, sirs!
Now bold as a Turk, I proceed to New York,6 Where with Clinton and Howe you may find me.