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272 ABOUT SAVANNAH.
There Pulaski fell,4
That imp of old Bell, Who attempted to murder his king,6 sir.
But now he is gone,
Whence he'll never return ; But will make hell with treason to ring, sir.
To Charleston with fear,
The rebels repair; D'Estaing scampers back to his boats, sir.
Each blaming the other,
Each cursing his brother, And—may they cut each other's throats, sir.
Scarce three thousand men, The town did maintain,
'Gainst three times their number of foes, sir, Who left on the plain, Of wounded and slain,
Three thousand to fatten the crows, sir.
Three thousand ! no less !6 For the rebels confess |
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