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The Glorious Seventy Four

A New Song. To the tune of Hearts Of Oak

COME, come, my brave boys, from my song you shall hear,
That we'll crown seventy four a most glorious year;
We'll convince Bute and Mansfield, and North, though they rave,
Britons still, like themselves, spurn the chains of a slave.

Hearts of oak were our sires,
Hearts of oak are their sons,
Like them we are ready, as firm and as steady,
To fight for our freedom with swords and with guns.

Foolish elves, to conjecture, by crosing of mains,
That the true blood of freemen would charge in our veins;
Let us scorch, let us freeze, from the line to the pole,
Britain's sons still retain all their freedom of soul.
Chorus: Hearts of oak, etc.

See--our rights to invade, Britain's dastardly foes,
Sending bysons and congoes, did vainly suppose,
That poor shallow [illegible] like themselves, we were grown,
And our hearts were as servile and base as their own.
Chorus: Hearts of oak, etc.

Their tea still is driven away from our shores,
Or presented to Neptune, or rots in our stores;
But to awe, to divide, till we crouch to their sway,
On brave Boston their vengeance they fiercely display.
Chorus: Hearts of oak, etc.

Now, unask'd we unite, we agree to a man,
See our stores flow to Boston from rear and from van;
Hark! the snows , how it flies, freedom's voice, how it sounds!
From each country, each clime, bark, the echo rebounds!
Chorus: Hearts of oak, etc.

Across the Atlantic, so thund'ring the roar,
It has rous'd Britain's genius, who dos'd on his shore;
Who has injur'd my sons, my brave boys o'er the main,
Whose spirits to vigor it renews me again!
Chorus: Hearts of oak, etc.

With sons, who I foster'd and cherish'd of yore,
Fair freedom shall flourish till time is no more;
No tyrant shall rule them, 'tis Heaven's decree,
They shall never be slaves while they dare to be free.
Chorus: Hearts of oak, etc.

Source: Williamsburg Gazette (Pinkney), October 6, 1774