With nine hundred came Lord Percy, sent by startled Gage to meet them, And he scoffed at those who suffered such a horde of boors to beat them; But his scorn was changed to anger, when on front and flank were falling, From the fences, walls, and roadside, drifts of leaden hail appalling; And his picked and chosen soldiers, who had never shrunk in battle, Hurried quicker in their panic when they heard the firelocks rattle. Tell it not in Gath, Lord Percy, never Ascalon let hear it, That you fled from those you taunted as devoid of force and spirit; That the blacksmith, weaver, farmer, leaving forging, weaving, tillage, Fully paid with coin of bullets base marauders for their pillage; They, you said, would fly in terror, Britons and their bayonets shunning; But the loudest of the boasters proved the foremost in the running. Then round Prospect Hill they hurried, where we followed and assailed them; They had stout and tireless muscles, or their limbs had surely failed them; Stood abashed the bitter Tories, as the women loudly wondered That a crowd of scurvy rebels chased to hold eleven hundred— Chased to hold eleven hundred, grenadiers both light and heavy, Leading Percy, of the Border, on a chase surpassing Chevy. Into Boston marched their forces, musket-barrels brightly gleaming, Colors flying, sabres flashing, drums were beating, fifes were screaming. Not a word about their journey; from the general to the drummer, Did you ask about their doings, than a statue each was dumber; But the wounded in their litters, lying pallid, weak, and gory, With a language clear and certain told the sanguinary story. ’Twas a dark and bloody lesson; it was bloody work to teach it; But when sits on high Oppression, soaring fire alone can reach it. Though but raw and rude Provincials, we were freemen, and contending For the rights our fathers gave us, and a country worth defending; And when foul invaders threaten wrong to hearthstone and to altar, Shame were on the freeman’s manhood should he either fail or falter. On the day the fight that followed, neighbor met and talked with neighbor; First the few who fell they buried, then returned to daily labor. Glowed the fire within the forges, ran the ploughshare down the furrow, Clicked the bobbin-loaded shuttle—both our fight and toil were thorough; If we labored in the battle, or the shop, or forge, or fallow, Still there came an honest purpose, casting round our deeds a halo.