Classic Poem

Come unto me, ye heroes
Whose hearts are true and bold,
Who value more your honor
Than others do their gold;
Give ear unto my story,
And I the truth will tell,
Concerning many a soldier
Who for his country fell.

Burgoyne, the King's commander,
From Canada set sail;
With full eight thousand regulars,
He thought he could not fail;
With Indians and Canadians,
And his cursed Tory crew,
On board his fleet of shipping
He up the Champlain flew.

Before Ticonderoga,
The first day of July,
Appeared his ships and army,
And we did them espy.
Their motions we observed,
Full well both night and day,
And our brave boys prepared
To have a bloody fray.

Our garrison, they viewed them,
And straight their troops did land;
And when St. Clair, our chieftain,
The fact did understand,
That they the Mount Defiance
Were bent to fortify,
He found we must surrender,
Or else prepare to die.

The fifth day of July, then,
He ordered a retreat;
And when next morn we started,
Burgoyne thought we were beat.
And closely he pursued us,
Till when near Hubbardton,
Our rear guards were defeated,
He thought the country won.

And when 't was told in Congress
That we our forts had left,
To Albany retreated,
Of all the North bereft,
Brave General Gates they sent us,
Our fortunes to retrieve,
And him, with shouts of gladness,
The army did receive.

Where first the Mohawk's waters
Do in the sunshine play,
For Herkimer's brave soldiers
Sellinger ambushed lay;
And them he there defeated,
But soon he had his due,
And scared by Brooks and Arnold,
He to the north withdrew.

To take the stores and cattle
That we had gathered then,
Burgoyne sent a detachment
Of fifteen hundred men;
By Baum they were commanded,
To Bennington they went;
To plunder and to murder
Was fully their intent.

But little did they know then
With whom they had to deal;
It was not quite so easy
Our stores and stocks to steal,
Bold Stark would give them only
A portion of his lead;
With half his crew, ere sunset,
Baum lay among the dead.

The nineteenth of September,
The morning cool and clear,
Brave Gates rode through our army,
Each soldier's heart to cheer;
" Burgoyne, " he cried, " advances,
But we will never fly;
No — rather than surrender,
We'll fight him till we die! "

The news was quickly brought us,
The enemy was near,
And all along our lines then,
There was no sign of fear;
It was above Stillwater
We met at noon that day,
And every one expected
To see a bloody fray.

Six hours the battle lasted,
Each heart as true as gold,
The British fought like lions,
And we like Yankees bold;
The leaves with blood were crimson,
And then did brave Gates cry,
" 'T is diamond now cut diamond!
We'll beat them, boys, or die. "

The darkness soon approaching,
It forced us to retreat
Into our lines till morning,
Which made them think us beat;
But ere the sun was risen,
They saw before their eyes
Us ready to engage them,
Which did them much surprise.

Of fighting they seem weary,
Therefore to work they go
Their thousand dead to bury,
And breastworks up to throw;
With grape and bombs intending
Our army to destroy,
Or from our works our forces
By stratagem decoy.

The seventh day of October
The British tried again,
Shells from their cannon throwing,
Which fell on us like rain;
To drive us from our stations,
That they might thus retreat;
For now Burgoyne saw plainly
He never could us beat.

But vain was his endeavor
Our men to terrify;
Though death was all around us,
Not one of us would fly.
But when an hour we'd fought them,
And they began to yield,
Along our lines the cry ran,
" The next blow wins the field! "

Great God who guides their battles
Whose cause is just and true,
Inspired our bold commander
The course he should pursue!
He ordered Arnold forward,
And Brooks to follow on;
The enemy was routed!
Our liberty was won!

Then, burning all their luggage,
They fled with haste and fear,
Burgoyne with all his forces,
To Saratoga did steer;
And Gates, our brave commander,
Soon after him did hie,
Resolving he would take them,
Or in the effort die.

As we came nigh the village,
We overtook the foe;
They'd burned each house to ashes,
Like all where'er they go.
The seventeenth of October,
They did capitulate,
Burgoyne and his proud army
Did we our prisoners make.

Now here's a health to Arnold,
And our commander Gates,
To Lincoln and to Washington,
Whom every Tory hates;
Likewise unto our Congress,
God grant it long to reign;
Our Country, Right, and Justice
Forever to maintain.

Now finished is my story,
My song is at an end;
The freedom we're enjoying
We're ready to defend;
For while our cause is righteous,
Heaven nerves the soldier's arm,
And vain is their endeavor
Who strive to do us harm.