The Origin of Yankee Doodle.

Once in a time old Johnny Bull
    Flew in a raging fury,
And swore that Jonathan should have
    No trials, sir, by jury;
That no elections should be held
    Across the briny waters:
"And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea
    Of all his sons and daughters."
Then down he sate in burly state,
    And blustered like a grandee,
And in derision made a tune
    Called "Yankee doodle dandy."
"Yankee doodle"--these are the facts--
    "Yankee doodle dandy;
My son of wax, your tea I'll tax--
    You--Yankee doodle dandy!"

John sent the tea from o'er the sea
    With heavy duties rated;
But whether hyson or bohea,
    I never heard it stated.
Then Jonathan to pout began--
    He laid a strong embargo--
"I'll drink no tea, by Jove!"--so he
    Threw overboard the cargo.
Next Johnny sent an armament,
    Big looks and words to bandy,
Whose martial band, when near the land,
    Played--"Yankee doodle dandy."
"Yankee doodle--keep it up!
    Yankee doodle dandy!
I'll poison with a tax your cup--
    You--Yankee doodle dandy!"

A long war then they had, in which
    John was at last defeated;
And "Yankee doodle" was the march
    To which his troops retreated.
Young Jonathan, to see them fly,
    Could not restrain his laughter:
"That tune," said he, "suits to a T,
    I'll sing it ever after!"
Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace,
    Was flushed with beer and brandy,
E'en while he swore to sing no more
    This--"Yankee doodle dandy."
Yankee doodle--ho! ha! he!
    Yankee doodle dandy--
We kept the tune, but not the tea,
    Yankee doodle dandy!

I've told you now the origin
    Of this most lively ditty,
Which Johnny Bull pronounces "dull
    And silly!"--what a pity!
With "Hail Columbia!" it is sung,
    In chorus full and hearty--
On land and main we breathe the strain,
    John made for his tea-party.
No matter how we rhyme the words,
    The music speaks them handy,
And where's the fair can't sing the air
    Of "Yankee doodle dandy!"
"Yankee doodle--firm and true--
    Yankee doodle dandy,
Yankee doodle, doodle doo!
    Yankee doodle dandy!"

George Pope Morris

George Pope Morris was an American editor, poet, and songwriter. Born on October 10, 1802, he made significant contributions to American literature and music. Morris co-founded and edited the New York Evening Mirror, where he published works by Edgar Allan Poe and others. He is perhaps best known for his song "Woodman, Spare That Tree!" and his role in the early 19th-century literary scene. Morris died on July 6, 1864, leaving behind a legacy of editorial and creative work that influenced many American writers and musicians.

George Pope Morris

A Parody.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

The Master's Song.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

The Cottager's Welcome.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

The Seasons of Love.

George Pope Morris, Simple Poetry

English

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Yankee Doodle

This poem is intended as a description of a sort of Blashfield mural painting on the sky.To be sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle, yet in a slower, more orotund fashion.    It is presumably an exercise for an entertainment on the evening of Washington's Birthday.


    Dawn this morning burned all red
    Watching them in wonder.
    There I saw our spangled flag
    Divide the clouds asunder.
    Then there followed Washington.
    Ah, he rode from glory,
    Cold and mighty as his name
    And stern as Freedom's story.
    Unsubdued by burning dawn
    Led his continentals.
    Vast they were, and strange to see
    In gray old regimentals: -
    Marching still with bleeding feet,
    Bleeding feet and jesting -
    Marching from the judgment throne

Vachel Lindsay

A Ballad Of The Boston Tea-Party

Read at a meeting of the Massachusetts Historical Society.

No! never such a draught was poured
Since Hebe served with nectar
The bright Olympians and their Lord,
Her over-kind protector, -
Since Father Noah squeezed the grape
And took to such behaving
As would have shamed our grandsire ape
Before the days of shaving, -
No! ne'er was mingled such a draught
In palace, hall, or arbor,
As freemen brewed and tyrants quaffed
That night in Boston Harbor!
The Western war-cloud's crimson stained
The Thames, the Clyde, the Shannon;
Full many a six-foot grenadier
The flattened grass had measured,
And many a mother many a year
Her tearful memories treasured;
Fast spread the tempest's darkening pall,
The mighty realms were troubled,
The storm...

Oliver Wendell Holmes

A Boston Ballad, 1854

To get betimes in Boston town, I rose this morning early;
Here's a good place at the corner--I must stand and see the show.

Clear the way there, Jonathan!
Way for the President's marshal! Way for the government cannon!
Way for the Federal foot and dragoons--and the apparitions copiously tumbling.

I love to look on the stars and stripes--I hope the fifes will play
Yankee Doodle.

How bright shine the cutlasses of the foremost troops!
Every man holds his revolver, marching stiff through Boston town.

A fog follows--antiques of the same come limping,
Some appear wooden-legged, and some appear bandaged and bloodless.

Why this is indeed a show! It has called the dead out of the earth!
The old grave-yards of the hills have hurried to see!
Phantoms! phan...

Walt Whitman

How We Kept The Day.

I.
The great procession came up the street,
With clatter of hoofs and tramp of feet;
There was General Jones to guide the van,
And Corporal Jinks, his right-hand man;
And each was riding his high horse,
And each had epaulettes, of course;
And each had a sash of the bloodiest red,
And each had a shako on his head;
And each had a sword by his left side,
And each had his mustache newly dyed;
And that was the way
We kept the day,
The great, the grand, the glorious day,
That gave us -
Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!
(With a battle or two, the histories say,)
Our National Independence!

II.
The great procession came up the street,
With loud da capo, and brazen repeat;
There was Hans, the leader, a Teuton born,
A sharp who worried th...

William McKendree Carleton

How We Kept The Day.

I.
The great procession came up the street,
With clatter of hoofs and tramp of feet;
There was General Jones to guide the van,
And Corporal Jinks, his right-hand man;
And each was riding his high horse,
And each had epaulettes, of course;
And each had a sash of the bloodiest red,
And each had a shako on his head;
And each had a sword by his left side,
And each had his mustache newly dyed;
And that was the way
We kept the day,
The great, the grand, the glorious day,
That gave us--
Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!
(With a battle or two, the histories say,)
Our National Independence!

II.
The great procession came up the street,
With loud da capo, and brazen repeat;
There was Hans, the leader, a Teuton born,
A sharp who worried the E fla...

Will Carleton

Up And Down Old Brandywine

Up and down old Brandywine,
    In the days 'at's past and gone -
With a dad-burn hook-and line
    And a saplin' pole - swawn!
        I've had more fun, to the square
        Inch, than ever ANYwhere!
        Heaven to come can't discount MINE
        Up and down old Brandywine!

Hain't no sense in WISHIN' - yit
    Wisht to goodness I COULD jes
"Gee" the blame' world round and git
    Back to that old happiness! -
        Kindo' drive back in the shade
        "The old Covered Bridge" there laid
        'Crosst the crick, and sorto' soak
        My soul over, hub and spoke!

Honest, now! - it hain't no DREAM
    'At I'm wantin', - but THE FAC'S
As they wuz; the same old stream,
    And the same old times, i jacks! -
        Gim...

James Whitcomb Riley