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So unto Lee he sent a line,
And told him all his sorrow, And said that he must start the hunt,
Before the coming morrow.
Lee found a sergeant in his camp, Made up of bone and muscle,
Who ne'er knew fear, and many a year With tories had a tussle.
Bold Champe, when mounted on old Kip, All button'd up from weather,
Sang out, " good bye ! " crack'd off his whip, And soon was in the heather.
He gallop'd on towards Paulus Hook,
Improving every instant— Until a patrol, wide awake,
Descried him in the distance.
On coming up, the guard call'd out
And ask'd him where he's going—
To which he answer'd with his spur, And left him in the mowing.