William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.
The Rifleman’s Song at Bennington—1777W
Your mind what madness fills?
In our valleys there is danger,
And danger on our hills!
Hear ye not the singing
Of the bugle, wild and free?
Full soon ye’ll know the ringing
Of the rifle from the tree!
The rifle, the sharp rifle!
In our hands it is no trifle!
He may know another master:
Ye forward come with speed,
But ye’ll learn to back much faster,
When ye meet our mountain boys
And their leader, Johnny Starke!
Lads who make but little noise,
But who always hit the mark
With the rifle, the true rifle!
In their hands will prove no trifle!
Across the briny water,
That hither ye must come,
Like bullocks to the slaughter?
If we the work must do,
Why, the sooner ’tis begun,
If flint and trigger hold but true,
The quicker ’twill be done
By the rifle, the good rifle!
In our hands it is no trifle!