On Disbanding the Army (1783)

On Disbanding the Army - Colonel David Humphreys

Ye brave Columbian bands ! a long farewell !
Well have ye fought for freedom - nobly done
Your martial task - the meed immortal won -
And Time's last records shall your triumphs tell.

Once friendship made their cup of suff 'rings sweet
The dregs how bitter, now those bands must part !
Ah ! never, never more on earth to meet;
Distill'd from gall that inundates the heart,
What tears from heroes eyes are seen to start !

Ye, too, farewell, who fell in fields of gore,
And chang'd tempestuous toil for rest serene;
Soon shall we join you on the peaceful shore,
(Though gulfs irremeable roll between),
Thither by death-tides borne, as ye full soon have been.

http://www.americanrevolution.org/war%20songs/warsongs91.html

The Soldier at Home (1781)

The Soldier at Home (1781)

From noise of camps once more I come,
To snatch from care a short repose;
All hail thou tranquil much lov'd home,
That war nor dread misfortune knows.

Thus, far remov'd from hostile bands,
May'st thou heart-pleasing home remain;
Curs'd be the murderous foreign hands
That dare with blood thy bosom stain.

Oh haste, ye generous few I love,
Again in social converse join;
With me the sweets of friendship prove,
And to the winds your cares resign.

But oh ! to recollect how soon
The period comes that bids me hence;
A sadd'ning momentary gloom
Steals half my joys, and clouds my sense.

But why indulge that care-mix'd thought ?
The happy day may yet arrive,
When tyranny shall fall to nought,
And liberty alone survive.

Then with my friends in jocund mood,
I'll tell what dangers have been mine;
And how Americans have stood
At Germantown and Brandywine.

Here we'll remember martial Gates,
He taught the proud Burgoyne to yield;
Who frowning at his adverse fates,
Surrender'd on the well fought field.

Then each gay friend shall swell the tale,
With hardy deeds of bold emprise;
Again he sees our arms prevail,
And long-lost ardors now arise.

Here Howe, says he, (and marks the track,)
The British troops did proudly form;
And here with adverse lines compact,
Brave Washington did swell the storm.

'Twas here I was, and points the spot,
(As he had tracèd on the ground,)
What bursts of thunder, showers of shot,
Yet there great Washington was found.

At Monmouth's plains, where Lee retreated,
Great Washington did then push on;
Sir Harry's chosen troops defeated,
Then laugh'd his tyranny to scorn.

These happy days are yet to come,
Then why repine at such a fate;
Bear well the woe that is your doom,
And joy can never come too late.

http://www.americanrevolution.org/war%20songs/warsongs84.html

British Light Infantry (1778)

British Light Infantry

For battle prepared in their country's just cause,
Their king to avenge and support all his laws;
As fierce as a tiger, as swift as the roe,
The British Light Infantry rush on their foe.

Though rebels unnumber'd oppose their career,
Their hearts are undaunted; they're strangers to fear;
No obstacles hinder; resistless they go,
And death and destruction attend every blow.

'Cross the deep-gullied vale, up the mountain's steep side,
Through the rough foaming river's impetuous tide,
O'er the fortified redoubt, close wedged in array,
Regardless of safety they follow their prey.

The alarm of the drum and the cannon's loud roar;
The musket's quick flash, but inflames them the more.
No dangers appal, for they fear no control,
But glory and conquest inspires every soul.

Whenever their foe stands arrang'd in their sight,
With ardor impatient they pant for the fight;
Rout, havoc, confusion they spread through the field,
And rebellion and treason are forcèd to yield.

http://www.americanrevolution.org/war%20songs/warsongs53.html

Nathan Hale

Nathan Hale (1776)

The breezes went steadily thro' the tall pines,
A saying " oh ! hu-ush !" a saying "oh ! hu-ush !"
As stilly stole by a bold legion of horse,
For Hale in the bush, for Hale in the bush.

"Keep still !" said the thrush as she nestled her young,
In a nest by the road; in a nest by the road.
"For the tyrants are near, and with them appear,
What bodes us no good, what bodes us no good."

The brave captain heard it, and thought of his home,
In a cot by the brook; in a cot by the brook
With mother and sister and memories dear,
He so gaily forsook; he so gaily forsook.

Cooling shades of the night were coming apace,
The tattoo had beat; the tattoo had beat.
The noble one sprang from his dark lurking place,
To make his retreat; to make his retreat.

He warily trod on the dry rustling leaves,
As he pass'd thro' the wood; as he pass'd thro' the wood;
And silently gain'd his rude launch on the shore,
As she play'd with the flood; as she play'd with the flood.

The guards of the camp, on that dark, dreary night,
Had a murderous will; had a murderous will.
They took him and bore him afar from the shore,
To a hut on the hill; to a hut on the hill.

No mother was there, nor a friend who could cheer,
In that little stone cell; in that little stone cell.
But he trusted in love, from his father above.
In his heart, all was well; in his heart, all was well

An ominous owl with his solemn base voice,
Sat moaning hard by; sat moaning hard by.
The tyrant's proud minions most gladly rejoice,
"For he must soon die; for he must soon die."

The brave fellow told them, no thing he restrain'd,
The cruel gen'ral; the cruel gen'ral.
His errand from camp, of the ends to be gain'd,
And said that was all; and said that was all.

They took him and bound him and bore him away,
Down the hill's grassy side; down the hill's grassy side.
'Twas there the base hirelings, in royal array,
His cause did deride; his cause did deride.

Five minutes were given, short moments, no more,
For him to repent; for him to repent;
He pray'd for his mother, he ask'd not another,
To Heaven he went; to Heaven he went.

The faith of a martyr, the tragedy shew'd,
As he trod the last stage; as he trod the last stage.
And Britons will shudder at gallant Hale's blood,
As his words do presage, as his words do presage.

"Thou pale king of terrors, thou life's gloomy foe,
Go frighten the slave, go frighten the slave;
Tell tyrants, to you, their allegiance they owe.
No fears for the brave; no fears for the brave."

http://www.americanrevolution.org/war%20songs/warsongs34.html

Erin Hochman "Ein Volk, Ein Reich: The Anschluss Movement in Germany and Austria, 1918-­‐1933"

Dr. Erin Hochman, assistant professor of history at Southern Methodist University, is giving a talk on the Anschluss movement in Germany and Austria between the world wars on Thursday at 4pm in Gorgas 205.  Light refreshments will be served.

The Irishman's Epistle - 1775

The Epistle to the Troops in Boston

By my faith, but I think ye're all makers of bulls,
With your brains in your breeches, your --- in your skulls,
Get home with your muskets, and put up your swords,
And look in your books for the meaning of words.
You see now, my honies, how much your mistaken,
For Concord by discord can never be beaten.

How brave ye went out with your muskets all bright,
And thought to be-frighten the folks with the sight;
But when you got there how they powder'd your pums, And all the way home how they pepper'd your - ,
And is it not, honeys, a comical crack,
To be proud in the face, and be shot in the back.

How come ye to think, now, they did not know how,
To be after their firelocks as smartly as you?
Why, you see now, my honies, 'tis nothing at all,
But to pull at the trigger, and pop goes the ball.

And what have you got now with 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. I'm sure if you're wise you'll make peace for a dinner, For fighting and fasting will soon make ye thinner.

http://www.americanrevolution.org/war%20songs/warsongs22.html

Rays Opening Day and Poetry Month

Analysis of Baseball - May Swenson

It's about
the ball,
the bat,
and the mitt.
Ball hits
bat, or it
hits mitt.
Bat doesn't
hit ball, bat
meets it.
Ball bounces
off bat, flies
air, or thuds
ground (dud)
or it
fits mitt.

Bat waits
for ball
to mate.
Ball hates
to take bat's
bait. Ball
flirts, bat's
late, don't
keep the date.
Ball goes in
(thwack) to mitt,
and goes out
(thwack) back
to mitt.

Ball fits
mitt, but
not all
the time.
Sometimes
ball gets hit
(pow) when bat
meets it,
and sails
to a place
where mitt
has to quit
in disgrace.
That's about
the bases
loaded,
about 40,000
fans exploded.

It's about
the ball,
the bat,
the mitt,
the bases
and the fans.
It's done
on a diamond,
and for fun.
It's about
home, and it's
about run.