A SONG

WHEN the Puritans came over

Our hills and swamps to clear,

The woods were full of catamounts,

And Indians red as deer,

With tomahawks and scalping-knives,

That make folks’ heads look queer;

Oh the ship from England used to bring

A hundred wigs a year!

The crows came cawing through the air

To pluck the Pilgrims’ corn,

The bears came snuffing round the door

Whene'er a babe was born,

The rattlesnakes were bigger round

Than the but of the old rams horn

The deacon blew at meeting time

On every “Sabbath” morn.

But soon they knocked the wigwams down,

And pine-tree trunk and limb

Began to sprout among the leaves

In shape of steeples slim;

And out the little wharves were stretched

Along the ocean's rim,

And up the little school-house shot

To keep the boys in trim.

And when at length the College rose,

The sachem cocked his eye

At every tutor's meagre ribs

Whose coat-tails whistled by

But when the Greek and Hebrew words

Came tumbling from his jaws,

The copper-colored children all

Ran screaming to the squaws.

And who was on the Catalogue

When college was begun?

Two nephews of the President,

And the Professor's son;

( They turned a little Indian by,

As brown as any bun;)

Lord! how the seniors knocked about

The freshman class of one!

They had not then the dainty things

That commons now afford,

But succotash and hominy

Were smoking on the board;

They did not rattle round in gigs,

Or dash in long-tailed blues,

But always on Commencement days

The tutors blacked their shoes.

God bless the ancient Puritans!

Their lot was hard enough;

But honest hearts make iron arms,

And tender maids are tough;

So love and faith have formed and fed

Our true-born Yankee stuff,

And keep the kernel in the shell

The British found so rough!