All day the great guns barked and roared; All day the big balls screeched and soared; All day, 'mid the sweating gunners grim, Who toiled in their smoke-shroud dense and dim, Sweet Molly labored with courage high, With steady hand and watchful eye, Till the day was ours, and the sinking sun Looked down on the field of Monmouth won, And Molly standing beside her gun. Now, Molly, rest your weary arm! Safe, Molly, all is safe from harm. Now, woman, bow your aching head, And weep in sorrow o'er your dead! Next day on that field so hardly won, Stately and calm stands Washington, And looks where our gallant Greene doth lead A figure clad in motley weed-- A soldier's cap and a soldier's coat Masking a woman's petticoat. He greets our Molly in kindly wise; He bids her raise her tearful eyes; And now he hails her before them all Comrade and soldier, whate'er befall, "And since she has played a man's full part, A man's reward for her loyal heart! And Sergeant Molly Pitcher's name Be writ henceforth on the shield of fame!" Oh, Molly, with your eyes so blue! Oh, Molly, Molly, here's to you! Sweet honor's roll will aye be richer To hold the name of Molly Pitcher. LAURA E. RICHARDS. About the middle of July, a strong French fleet, commanded by Count D'Estaing, arrived off Sandy Hook, bringing with it M. Gérard, the first minister from France to the United States. It was found that the ships could not pass the bar at the mouth of New York harbor, and it was decided to attempt the capture of the British force which held Newport, R. I., but the expedition proved a failure, and the French sailed away to Boston to refit. YANKEE DOODLE'S EXPEDITION TO RHODE ISLAND [August, 1778] From Lewis, Monsieur Gérard came, To Congress in this town, sir, They bow'd to him, and he to them, And then they all sat down, sir. Begar, said Monsieur, one grand coup You shall bientôt behold, sir; This was believ'd as gospel true, And Jonathan felt bold, sir. So Yankee Doodle did forget The sound of British drum, sir, How oft it made him quake and sweat, In spite of Yankee rum, sir. He took his wallet on his back, His rifle on his shoulder, And veow'd Rhode Island to attack Before he was much older. In dread array their tatter'd crew Advanc'd with colors spread, sir, Their fifes played Yankee doodle, doo, King Hancock at their head, sir. What numbers bravely cross'd the seas, I cannot well determine, A swarm of rebels and of fleas, And every other vermin. Their mighty hearts might shrink they tho't, For all flesh only grass is, A plenteous store they therefore bought Of whiskey and molasses. They swore they'd make bold Pigot squeak, So did their good ally, sir, And take him pris'ner in a week, But that was all my eye, sir.