COME listen to the Story of brave Lathrop and his Men.— | |
| How they fought, how they died, | |
| When they marched against the Red Skins in the Autumn Days, and then | |
| How they fell, in their pride, | |
| By Pocumtuck Side. | 5 |
| |
| “Who will go to Deerfield Meadows and bring the ripened Grain?” | |
| Said old Mosely to his men in Array. | |
| “Take the Wagons and the Horses, and bring it back again; | |
| But be sure that no Man stray | |
| All the Day, on the Way.” | 10 |
| |
| Then the Flower of Essex started, with Lathrop at their head, | |
| Wise and brave, bold and true. | |
| He had fought the Pequots long ago, and now to Mosely said, | |
| “Be there Many, be there Few, | |
| I will bring the Grain to you.” | 15 |
| |
| They gathered all the Harvest, and marched back on their Way | |
| Through the Woods which blazed like Fire. | |
| No Soldier left the Line of march to wander or to stray, | |
| Till the Wagons were stalled in the Mire, | |
| And the Beasts began to tire. | 20 |
| |
| The Wagons have all forded the Brook as it flows, | |
| And then the Rear-Guard stays | |
| To pick the Purple Grapes that are hanging from the Boughs, | |
| When, crack!—to their Amaze, | |
| A hundred Fire-locks blaze! | 25 |
| |
| Brave Lathrop, he lay dying; but as he fell he cried, | |
| “Each Man to his Tree,” said he, | |
| “Let no one yield an inch;” and so the Soldier died; | |
| And not a Man of all can see | |
| Where the Foe can be. | 30 |
| |
| And Philip and his Devils pour in their Shot so fast, | |
| From behind and before, | |
| That Man after Man is shot down and breathes his last. | |
| Every Man lies dead in his Gore | |
| To fight no more,—no more! | 35 |
| |
| Oh, weep, ye Maids ef Essex, for the Lads who have died,— | |
| The Flower of Essex they! | |
| The Bloody Brook still ripples by the black Mountain-side, | |
| But never shall they come again to see the ocean-tide, | |
| And never shall the Bridegroom return to his Bride, | 40 |
| From that dark and cruel Day.—cruel Day! | |
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