"The British felt so very sure The battle they would win it, Americans could not endure The battle not a minute; And Pakenham he made his brag If he in fight was lucky, He'd have the girls and cotton bags In spite of old Kentucky. "But Jackson he was wide awake And not scared at trifles, For well he knew what aim to take With our Kentucky rifles; He led us to the cypress swamp, The ground was low and mucky, There stood John Bull in martial pomp And here was old Kentucky. "A bank was raised to hide our breast-- Not that we thought of dying-- But we liked firing from a rest Unless the game was flying; Behind it stood our little force, None wished that it were greater, For every man was half a horse And half an alligator. "They did not our patience tire, Before they showed their faces, We did not choose to waste our fire, So snugly kept our places; But when no more we saw them blink We thought it time to stop 'em-- It would have done you good, I think, To see Kentucky drop 'em." Then gentle Miss Judy, repeating these lines, used to grow almost bloodthirsty in trying to repeat the things which she had heard her father say about this,--the part played by the hunters of Kentucky at the battle of New Orleans,--as having been the first recognition of marksmanship in warfare. Miss Judy had no clear understanding of what her father had meant, but she usually repeated what he had said about the sharpshooting of the hunters whenever she spoke of the battle. She thrilled with patriotism every time she touched the cannon-ball. It was so big that both her little hands were required to roll it into the hollow which it had worn in the floor of the passage.