Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BUNKER'S HILL, OR THE SOLDIER'S LAMENTATION, by JOHN FREETH


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

BUNKER'S HILL, OR THE SOLDIER'S LAMENTATION, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I am a jolly soldier, / enlisted years ago
Last Line: Be destined to the cord.
Alternate Author Name(s): Free, John
Subject(s): American Revolution; Bunker Hill, Battle Of; Fights; Lament; Soldiers


I AM a jolly soldier,
Enlisted years ago,
To serve my king and country,
Against the common foe.
But when across th' Atlantic
My orders were to go,
I grieved to think that English hearts
Should draw their swords on those
Who fought and conquered by their side,
When Frenchmen were their foes.

In drubbing French and Spaniards
A soldier takes delight,
But troops cooped up in Boston,
Are in so sad a plight,
That many think their stomachs more
Inclined to eat than fight,
And like us would be loth to stir;
For ev'ry vet'ran knows,
We fought and conquered side by side,
When Frenchmen were our foes.

'Twas on the seventeenth of June,
I can't forget the day,
The flower of our army
For Charles-Town sailed away.
The town was soon in ashes laid,
When bombs began to play:
But oh! the cruel scene to paint,
It makes my blood run chill;
Pray heaven grant I never more
May climb up Bunker's Hill.

America to frighten
The tools of power strove,
But ministers are cheated,
Their schemes abortive prove.
The men they told us would not fight
Are to the combat drove,
And to our gallant officers,
It proved a bitter pill,
For numbers dropped before they reached
The top of Bunker's Hill.

I should not be amazed to hear
Wolfe's ghost had left the shades,
To check that shameful bloody work,
Which England's crown degrades.
The lads, who scorn to turn their backs
On Gallia's best brigades,
Undaunted stood, but frankly own
They better had lain still,
Than such a dear-bought victory gain,
As that of Bunker's Hill.

Did they, who bloody measures crave,
Our toil and danger share,
Not one to face the rifle-men
A second time would dare.
Ye Britons who your country love,
Be this your ardent pray'r:
To Britain and her colonies,
May peace be soon restored,
And knaves of high and low degree
Be destined to the cord.





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