|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
THE COW CHACE.
Apostate Murphy, thou to whom
Fair Shela ne'er was cruel, In death shalt hear her mourn thy doom,
" Oeh! would you die, my jewel ? "
Thee, Nathan Pumpkin, I lament,
Of melancholy fate; The gray goose stolen as he went,
In his heart's blood was wet.
Now, as the fight was further fought,
And balls began to thicken, The fray assum'd, the generals thought,
The color of a lickin'.
Yet undismay'd the chiefs command,
And to redeem the day ; Cry, Soldiers, charge! they hear, they stand,
They turn and run away.