DICK. Of some part of their hasty retreat I was a joyful spectator, I saw their tongues lolling out of their mouths, and heard them pant like hunted wolves indeed. ROGER. Did you not hear how their mirth was turn'd into mourning? their fury into astonishment? how soon they quitted their howling Yankee Doodle, and chang'd their notes to bellowing? how nimbly (yet against their will) they betook themselves to dancing? And he was then the bravest dog that beat time the swiftest, and footed Yankee Doodle the nimblest. DICK. Well pleased, Roger, was I with the chase, and glorious sport it was: I oft perceiv'd them tumbling o'er each other heels over head; nor did one dare stay to help his brother--but, with bloody breech, made the best of his way--nor ever stopped till they were got safe within their lurking-holes-- ROGER. From whence they have not the courage to peep out, unless four to one, except (like a skunk) forc'd by famine. DICK. May this be the fate of all those prowling sheep-stealers, it behooves the shepherds to double the watch, to take uncommon precaution and care of their tender flocks, more especially as this is like to be an uncommon severe winter, by the appearance of wolves, so early in the season--but, hark!--Roger, methinks I hear the sound of melody warbling thro' the grove--Let's sit a while, and partake of it unseen. ROGER. With all my heart.--Most delightful harmony! This is the First of May; our shepherds and nymphs are celebrating our glorious St. Tammany's day; we'll hear the song out, and then join in the frolic, and chorus it o'er and o'er again--This day shall be devoted to joy and festivity. SONG. [TUNE. _The hounds are all out, &c._] 1. Of _St. George_, or _St. Bute_, let the poet Laureat sing, Of _Pharaoh_ or _Pluto_ of old, While he rhymes forth their praise, in false, flattering lays, I'll sing of St. Tamm'ny the bold, my brave boys. 2. Let Hibernia's sons boast, make Patrick their toast; And Scots Andrew's fame spread abroad. Potatoes and oats, and Welch leeks for Welch goats, Was never St. Tammany's food, my brave boys. 3. In freedom's bright cause, Tamm'ny pled with applause, And reason'd most justly from nature; For this, this was his song, all, all the day long: Liberty's the right of each creature, brave boys. 4. Whilst under an oak his great parliament sat, His throne was the crotch of the tree; With Solomon's look, without statutes or book, He wisely sent forth his decree, my brave boys. 5. His subjects stood round, not the least noise or sound, Whilst freedom blaz'd full in each face: So plain were the laws, and each pleaded his cause; That might _Bute_, _North_ and _Mansfield_ disgrace, my brave boys. 6.