GALLANTS attend, and hear a friend,
Trill forth harmonious ditty,
Strange things I'll tell which late befell
In Philadelphia city.
"Twas early day, as poets say,
Just when the sun was rising, A soldier stood on a log of wood, And saw a thing surprising.
As in a maze he stood to gaze,
The truth can't be denied, sir, He spied a score of kegs or more Come floating down the tide, sir.
A sailor too, in jerkin blue,
This strange appearance viewing, First damn'd his eyes, in great surprise, Then said, "Some mischief's brewing.
"These kegs, I'm told, the rebels hold,
Packed up like pickled herring;
And they're come down t' attack the town,
In this new way of ferrying."
This ballad was occasioned by a real incident. Certain machines in the form of kegs, charged with gunpowder, were sent down the river to annoy the British shipping then at Philadelphia. The danger of these machines being discovered, the British manned the wharves and shipping, and discharged their small arms and cannons at every thing they saw floating in the river, during the ebb tide.
The soldier flew, the sailor too,
And scared almost to death, sir,
Wore out their shoes to spread the news,
And ran till out of breath, sir.
Now up and down, throughout the town,
Most frantic scenes were acted;
And some ran here and others there,
Like men almost distracted.
Some fire cried, which some denied,
But said the earth had quaked;
And girls and boys, with hideous noise,
Ran through the streets half naked.
Sir William he, snug as a flea,
Lay all this time a snoring,
Nor dream'd of harm, as he lay warm,
In bed with Mrs. Lg.
Now in a fright he starts upright,
Awaked by such a clatter;
He rubs both eyes, and boldly cries,
"For God's sake, what's the matter?"
At his bedside he then espied
Sir Erskine at command, sir, Upon one foot he had one boot, And the other in his hand, sir.
"Arise, arise," Sir Erskine cries, "The rebels-more's the pity, Without a boat are all afloat, And ranged before the city.
"The motley crew, in vessels new,
With Satan for their guide, sir,
Pack'd up in bags, or wooden kegs,
Come driving down the tide, sir.
"Therefore prepare for bloody war,-
These kegs must all be routed,
Or surely we despised shall be,
And British courage doubted."
The royal band now ready stand,
All ranged in dread array, sir,
With stomach stout to see it out,
And make a bloody day, sir.
The cannons roar from shore to shore,
The small arms make a rattle;
Since wars began I'm sure no man
E'er saw so strange a battle.
The rebel dales, the rebel vales,
With rebel trees surrounded;
The distant woods, the hills and floods,
With rebel echoes sounded.
The fish below swam to and fro,
Attack'd from every quarter;
Why sure, thought they, the devil's to pay,
'Mongst folks above the water.
The kegs, 'tis said, though strongly made,
Of rebel staves and hoops, sir,
Could not oppose their powerful foes,
The conquering British troops, sir.
From morn to night these men of might
Display'd amazing courage;
And when the sun was fairly down,
Retir'd to sup their porridge.
An hundred men with each a pen,
Or more, upon my word, sir,
It is most true, would be too few,
Their valor to record, sir.
Such feats did they perform that day,
Against these wicked kegs, sir,
That years to come, if they get home,
They'll make their boasts and brags, sir.
BY DOCTOR SAMUEL PETERS. 1781.
[This extract embodies one of the "many curious and interesting anecdotes" in the Doctor's General History of Connecticut, which work Dwight calls "a mass of folly and falsehood." But the story of the Windham Frogs has other chroniclers-see the metrical version of this fearful legend which forms the next article.]
WINDHAM resembles Rumford, and stands on | are about thirty different voices among them; some Willimantic River. Its meeting-house is elegant, of which resemble the bellowing of a bull. The and has a steeple, bell, and clock. Its court-house is scarcely to be looked upon as an ornament. The township forms four parishes, and is ten miles square. Strangers are very much terrified at the hideous noise made on summer evenings by the vast number of frogs in the brooks and ponds. There
owls and whip-poor-wills complete the rough concert, which may be heard several miles. Persons accustomed to such serenaders are not disturbed by them at their proper stations; but one night, in July, 1758, the frogs of an artificial pond, three miles square, and about five from Windham, finding
children; when they distinctly heard from the enemy's camp these words, Wight, Hilderken, Dier, Pete. This last they thought meant treaty; and plucking up courage, they sent a triumvirate to capitulate with the supposed French and Indians. These three men approached in their shirts, and begged to speak with the general; but it being dark, and no answer given, they were sorely agitated for some time betwixt hope and fear; at length, however, they discovered that the dreaded inimical army was an army of thirsty frogs, going to the river for a little water. Such an incursion was never known before nor since; and yet the people of Windham have been ridiculed for their timidity on this occasion. I verily believe an army under the Duke of Marlborough would, under like circumstances, have acted no better than they did.
the water dried up, left the place in a body, and | tion enough to venture back to their wives and marched, or rather hopped, towards Willimantic River. They were under the necessity of taking the road and going through the town, which they entered about midnight. The bull-frogs were the leaders, and the pipers followed without number. They filled a road forty yards wide for four miles in length, and were for several hours, in passing through the town, unusually clamorous. The inhabitants were equally perplexed and frightened; some expected to find an army of French and Indians; others feared an earthquake, and dissolution of nature. The consternation was universal. Old and young, male and female, fled naked from their beds with more shriekings than those of the frogs. The event was fatal to several women. The men, after a flight of half a mile, in which they met with many broken shins, finding no enemies in pursuit of them, made a halt, and summoned resolu
From "M'Fingal," the humorous Epic of the Revolution. 1782.
Now warm with ministerial ire,
Fierce sallied forth our loyal 'Squire,
And on his striding steps attends
His desperate clan of Tory friends.
When sudden met his wrathful eye
A pole ascending through the sky,
Which numerous throngs of Whiggish race
Were raising in the market-place.
Not higher school-boys' kites aspire,
Or royal masts or country spire;
Like spears at Brobdignagian tilting,
Or Satan's walking-staff in Milton,
And on its top, the flag unfurl'd,
Wav'd triumph o'er the gazing world,
Inscrib'd with inconsistent types
Of Liberty and thirteen stripes.
Beneath, the crowd without delay
The dedication rites essay,
And gladly pay, in ancient fashion,
The ceremonies of libation;
While briskly to each patriot lip,
Walks eager round the inspiring flip:
Delicious draught! whose powers inherit
The quintessence of public spirit;
Which whoso tastes, perceives his mind
To noble politics refin'd;
Or rous'd to martial controversy,
As from transforming cups of Circe;
Or warm'd with Homer's nectar'd liquor,
That fill'd the veins of gods with ichor,
At hand for new supplies in store,
The tavern opes its friendly door,
Whence to and fro the waiters run,
Like bucket men at fires in town.
Then with three shouts that tore the sky,
'Tis consecrate to Liberty.
To guard it from the attacks of Tories,
A grand Committee call'd of four is;
Who foremost on the patriot spot,
Had brought the flip and paid the shot.
By this M'FINGAL with his train
Advanc'd upon th' adjacent plain,
And full with loyalty possest,
Pour'd forth the zeal, that fir'd his breast.
"What mad-brain'd rebel gave commission,
To raise this May-pole of sedition?
Like Babel, rear'd by bawling throngs,
With like confusion too of tongues.
To point at heaven and summon down
The thunders of the British crown?
Say, will this paltry pole secure
Your forfeit heads from Gage's power?
Attack'd by heroes brave and crafty,
Is this to stand your ark of safety?
Or driven by Scottish laird and laddie,
Think you to rest beneath its shadow?
When bombs, like fiery serpents, fly,
And balls rush hissing through the sky,
Will this vile pole, devote to freedom,
Save, like the Jewish pole in Edom;
Or like the brazen snake of Moses,
Cure your crackt skulls and batter'd noses?
"Ye dupes to every factious rogue
And tavern-prating demagogue,
Whose tongue but rings with sound more full,
On th' empty drum-head of his skull;
Behold you not, what noisy fools
Use you, worse simpletons, for tools?
For Liberty in your own by-sense,
Is but for crimes a patent license,
To break of law th' Egyptian yoke,
And throw the world in common stock;
Reduce all grievances and ills
To Magna Charta of your wills;
Establish cheats and frauds and nonsense,
Fram'd to the model of your conscience;
Cry justice down, as out of fashion,
And fix its scale of depreciation;
Defy all creditors to trouble ye,
And keep new years of Jewish jubilee;
Drive judges out, like Aaron's calves,
By jurisdiction of white staves,
And make the bar, and bench, and steeple
Submit t'our Sovereign Lord, the People;
By plunder rise to power and glory,
And brand all property, as Tory;
Expose all wares to lawful seizures
By mobbers or monopolizers;
Break heads and windows and the peace,
For your own interest and increase;
Dispute and pray, and fight and groan
For public good, and mean your own;
Prevent the law by fierce attacks
From quitting scores upon your backs;
Lay your old dread, the gallows, low,
And seize the stocks, your ancient foe,
And turn them to convenient engines
To wreak your patriotic vengeance;
While all, your rights who understand,
Confess them in their owner's hand;
And when by clamors and confusions,
Your freedom's grown a public nuisance,
Cry "Liberty," with powerful yearning,
As he does "Fire!" whose house is burning;
Though he already has much more
Than he can find occasion for.
While every clown that tills the plains,
Though bankrupt in estate and brains,
By this new light transform'd to traitor,
Forsakes his plough to turn dictator,
Starts as haranguing chief of Whigs,
And drags you by the ears, like pigs.
All bluster, arm'd with factious license,
New-born at once to politicians,
Each leather-apron'd dunce, grown wise,
Presents his forward face t' advise,
And tatter'd legislators meet,
From every workshop through the street.
His goose the tailor finds new use in,
To patch and turn the Constitution;
The blacksmith comes with sledge and grate
To iron bind the wheels of state;
*On the commencement of the war, the courts of justice were every where shut up. In some instances, the judges were forced to retire, by the people, who assembled in multitudes, armed with white staves.
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