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The first version of this song was published in the Pennsylvania Magazine in 1775. The verses were set to the tune of the Irish Washerwoman.
The song was written as a farcical comment about the British soldiers being defeated at the Battle of Concord, and being hassled all the way back to Boston.
By my faith, but I think ye're all makers of bulls, With your brains in your britches, your bums 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 you're mistaken, For Concord by discord can never be taken.
How brave ye went out with your muskets all bright, And thought to be-frighten the folk with the sight;
But when you got there how they powder'd your pums, And all the way home how they pepper'd your bums,
And is it not, honeys, a comical crack, To be proud in the face, and be shot in the back?
With all of your talkin' and all of your wordin', And all of your shoutin' and marchin' and swordin',
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 designin', But a town without victuals to sit down and dine in;
And stare at the floor and scratch at your 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.
Note: The midi file that is linked to this page was believed to be sequenced by Barry Taylor, and included on the website, located at: http://ingeb.org/songs/bymyfait.html