| Citation |
EJMP.775.078
8 Dec 1775:41 (2/101)
THE IRISHMAN'S EPISTLE TO THE OFFICER'S AND TROOPS AT
BOSTON.
By my faith, but I think you're all makers of Bulls,
With your brains in your breeches, your guts in your skulls.
Get home with your muskets, and put up your swords,
And look in your books for the meaning of words.
. . . [12 lines]
And what have ye got now by all your designing
But a town without victuals to sit down and dine in;
And to look on the ground like a parcel of noodles;
And sing how the yankees have beaten the doodles.
. . . [2 more lines]
|