Burgoyne, more frequently than other British officer, was the butt of the continental wits. His verses were parodied, his amours celebrated in songs of the mess-table, and his boasts and the weaker points in his nature caricatured in ballads and _petite_ comedies. We obtained a manuscript copy of the song from which the following verses are quoted, from an octogenarian Vermonter who, with the feeble frame, shrill voice and silvered locks of eighty-seven, would give the echoing chorus with as much enthusiasm as when he joined in it with his camp-companions more than half a century ago. THE PROGRESS OF SIR JACK BRAG. Said Burgoyne to his men, as they passed in review, Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys! These rebels their course very quickly will rue, And fly as the leaves ’fore the autumn tempest flew, When _him who is your leader_ they know, boys! They with _men_ have now to deal, And we soon will make them feel— Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys! That a loyal Briton’s arm and a loyal Briton’s steel Can put to flight a rebel as quick as other foe, boys! Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo— Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys! As to Sa-ra-tog’ he came, thinking how to _jo_ the game, Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys! He began to see the grubs, in the branches of his fame, He began to have the _trembles_ lest a flash should be the flame, For which he had agreed his perfume to forego, boys! No lack of skill, but fates, Shall makes us yield to Gates, Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo, boys! The devils may have leagued, as you know, with the States, But we never will be beat by any mortal foe, boys! Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo— Tullalo, tullalo, tullalo-o-o-o, boys! We believe the “Progress of Sir Jack Brag” has never been printed. The only clue to its authorship with which we are acquainted is the signature, “G. of H.” It was probably written soon after the defeat of its hero at Saratoga. Another ballad on the same subject is entitled THE FATE OF JOHN BURGOYNE.[9][10] When Jack the king’s commander Was going to his duty, Through all the crowd he smiled and bowed To every blooming beauty. The city rung with feats he’d done In Portugal and Flanders, And all the town thought he’d be crowned The first of Alexanders. To Hampton Court he first repairs To kiss great George’s hand, sirs; Then to harangue on state affairs Before he left the land, sirs. The “Lower House” sat mute as mouse To hear his grand oration; And “all the peers,” with loudest cheers, Proclaimed him to the nation. Then off he went to Canada, Next to Ticonderoga, And quitting those away he goes Straightway to Saratoga.