And Ned, may I die, Or be pok'd in a sty, If ever I venture again Where bullets do fly, And the wounded do cry, Tormented with anguish and pain. The Hope, I can tell, And the brig Constance fell, I swear, and I veow, in our sight; The first I can say, Was taken by day, But the latter was taken at night. I die to relate What has been our fate, How sadly our navies are shrunk; The pride of our State Begins to abate, For the branches are lopp'd from the trunk. The Congress must bend, We shall fall in the end, For the curs'd British sarpents are tough; But, I think as you find, I have enough penn'd Of such cursèd, such vexatious stuff. Yet how vexing to find We are left all behind, That by sad disappointment we're cross'd; Ah, fortune unkind! Thou afflicted'st my mind, When the South Carolina we lost. Our enemy vile, Cunning Digby does smile, Is pleasèd at our mischance; He useth each wile Our fleets to beguile, And to check our commerce with France. No more as a friend, Our ships to defend, Of South Carolina we boast; As a foe in the end, She will us attend, For the South Carolina we've lost. CHAPTER IX NEW YORK AND THE "NEUTRAL GROUND" For more than a year following the battle of Monmouth, Sir Henry Clinton remained cooped up in New York, while Washington, established in camp at White Plains, kept a sharp eye upon him. The thirty miles between their lines, embracing nearly all of Westchester County, was known as the "Neutral Ground." New York was naturally crowded with Royalist refugees, whom Clinton put to work on the fortifications. SIR HENRY CLINTON'S INVITATION TO THE REFUGEES [1779] Come, gentlemen Tories, firm, loyal, and true, Here are axes and shovels, and something to do! For the sake of our King, Come labor and sing. You left all you had for his honor and glory, And he will remember the suffering Tory. We have, it is true, Some small work to do; But here's for your pay, twelve coppers a day, And never regard what the rebels may say, But throw off your jerkins and labor away. To raise up the rampart, and pile up the wall, To pull down old houses and dig the canal, To build and destroy, Be this your employ, In the daytime to work at our fortifications, And steal in the night from the rebels your rations. The King wants your aid, Not empty parade; Advance to your places, ye men of long faces, Nor ponder too much on your former disgraces; This year, I presume, will quite alter your cases.