Two favorite SONGS,
made on the Evacuation of the Town of BOSTON,
by the British Troops, on the 17th of March, 1776.

IN seventeen hundred and seventy six,
On March the eleventh, the time was prefix'd,
Our forces march'd on upon Dorchester-neck,
Made fortifications against an attack.

The morning next following, as Howe did espy,
The banks we cast up, were so copious and high,
Said he in three months, all my men with their might,
Cou'd not make two such Forts as they've made in a night.

Now we hear that their Admiral was very wroth,
And drawing his sword, he bids Howe to go forth,
And drive off the YANKEES from Dorchester hill :
Or he'd leave the harbour and him to their will.

Howe rallies his forces upon the next day,
One party embark'd for the Castle they say,
But the wind and the weather against them did fight,
On Governor's Island it drove 'em that night.

Then being discourag'd they soon did agree,
From Bunker and Boston, on board ship to flee:
Great Howe lost his senses, they say for a week,
For fear our next fort should be rais'd in King-street.

But yet notwithstanding the finger of God,
In the wind and the weather which often occurr'd;
Still Howe, Pharaoh like, did harden his heart,
Being thirsty for victory to maintain his part.

He gives out fresh orders on Thursday it's said,
Forms his men in three branches upon the parade;
Acknowledging it was a desperate case,
In their situation the YANKEES to face:

Yet nevertheless being haughty of heart,
On Friday one branch of his men did embark:
A second stood ready down by the sea side:
His Dragoons were mounted all ready to ride.

Great Howe he now utters a desperate oration,
Saying fight my brave boys for the crown of our nation:
Take me for your pattern, and fight ye as I,
Let it be 'till we conquer, or else 'till we die.

But all of a sudden, with an Eagle ey'd glance,
They espied a fire being kindled by chance,
In a barrack at Cambridge, as many do know,
And then in confusion they ran to and fro.

Moreover as Providence order'd the thing,
Our drums beat alarm, our bell it did ring,
Which made them cry out, O the YANKEES will come;
O horror! they'll have us, come let us begone.

Then hilter skilter they ran in the street,
Sometimes on their heads and sometimes on their feet,
Leaving cannon and mortars, pack saddles and wheat,
Being glad to escape with the skin of their teeth.

Now off goes Pilgarlick with his men in a fright,
And altho' they show cowards, yet still they show spite,
In burning the Castle, as they pass along,
And now by Nantasket they lie in a throng.

Let 'em go, let 'em go, for what they will fetch,
I think their great Howe is a miserable wretch;
And as for his men, they are fools for their pains,
So let them return to Old-England again.

IT was'nt our will that Bunker Hill
From us should e,er be taken;
We thought it would never be retook,
But we find we are Mistaken.

The soldiers bid the hill farewell,
Two images left sentreis,
This they had done all out of fun
To the American Yankees.

A flag of truce was sent thereon,
To see if the hill was clear,
No living soul was found thereon,
But these images stood there.

Their hats they wave, come if you please,
There's none here to molest us,
These wooden men that here do stand,
Are only to defy us.

These images they soon threw down,
Not one man's life was lost then,
No sooner they were on the hill
But they landed into Boston.

The women come, and children run,
To brave PUTNAM rejoicing,
Saying now is your time to man your lines
For the soldiers have left Boston.

The troops you fairly scar'd away,
On board the ships they're quarter'd,
The children laugh'd, saying over the wharf
They threw their best bomb mortar.

With the blazing of your guns that night,
And roaring of your mortars,
The soldiers cry'd the Yankees come
To tear us all in quarters.

The barracks being set on fire,
Which made the soldiers quiver,
They soon embark on board their ships,
May they stay there forever.

Soon after this the fleet fell down,
It's what we long desir'd,
I think the Gen'rals were afraid
That they'd be set on fire.

The shipping now have all set sail,
No cause have we to mourn,
But seem afraid because 'tis said
They they will soon return.

Some say they're sail'd for Halifax,
And others for New York;
Howe let none know where he was bound,
When the soldiers did embark.

Where they are bound there's none can tell,
But the great GOD on high,
May all our heads be cover'd well,
When cannon balls do fly.