We have extended this article already too far, and will present but one other specimen of our revolutionary lyrics. It is not known who wrote “American Taxation.” In an edition printed in 1811, it is credited to B. Gleason, and on an earlier impression we find the name of Benjamin Franklin. We do not, however, believe it was written by the doctor, though in addition to the circumstance we have mentioned, Lieutenant Ellis alludes, in his Life, to “Franklin’s song on the Stamp Act.” It is an undoubted _antique_, and, excepting the satirical ballad by Major Andre, we know of nothing produced at so early a period in this country that is equal to it. AMERICAN TAXATION. While I relate my story, Americans give ear; Of Britain’s fading glory, you presently shall hear, I’ll give a true relation, attend to what I say, Concerning the taxation of North America. The cruel lords of Britain, who glory in their shame, The project they have hit on they joyfully proclaim; ’Tis what they’re striving after, our right to take away, And rob us of our charter, in North America. There are two mighty speakers, who rule in Parliament, Who ever have been seeking some mischief to invent; ’Twas North and Bute, his father, the horrid plan did lay, A mighty tax to gather, in North America. They searched the gloomy regions of the infernal pit, To find among their legions one who excell’d in wit, To ask of him assistance, or tell them how they may Subdue without resistance this North America. Old Satan, the arch traitor, who rules the burning lake, Where he’s chief navigator, resolved a voyage to take, For the Britannic ocean he launches far away, To land he had no notion in North America. He takes his seat in Britain, it was his soul’s intent, Great George’s throne to sit on, and rule the Parliament; His comrades were pursuing a diabolic way, For to complete the ruin of North of America. He tried the art of magic to bring his schemes about, At length the gloomy project he artfully found out: The plan was long indulged in a clandestine way, But lately was divulged in North America. These subtle arch-combiners address’d the British court, All three were undersigners of this obscure report— There is a pleasant landscape that lieth far away, Beyond the wide Atlantic, in North America. There is a wealthy people, who sojourn in that land, Their churches all with steeples most delicately stand, Their houses, like the gilly, are painted red and gay; They flourish like the lily, in North America. Their land with milk and honey continually doth flow, The want of food or money they seldom ever know: They heap up golden treasure, they have no debts to pay, They spend their time in pleasure, in North America.