The Fall of the Statue

There stood in New York, when, the times growing warm,
All o'er our fair country had gathered the storm,
Which wore in its coming, so fearful a form,
But left us the rainbow of peace,
An image of royalty, stately and proud—
A leaden old king, where his rotaries bowed;
While true friends of Liberty marked it, and vowed
That its honors should speedily cease.

And when our brave statesmen the article signed,
Declaring us free, with pure freedom of mind,
Columbia's true sons, feeling strongly inclined
To learn how the statue was based,
Assembled forthwith; and, besieging it, found
That the king in head, body and limb was quite sound,
And had of good lead in him many a pound,
Which might be more usefully placed.

Then, "Down with the ponderous George the Third!"
From a mingling of voices together, was heard,
With shoutings aloud, as they gave out the word,
"Down with it! let it come down!
We'll soon transform his grave highness of lead,
And turn him to balls from the feet to the head;
And then shall the mouths of our muskets be fed
With him of the throne and the crown.

"So now for the fall! for our Sages have met,
And their names to abroad Declaration have set,
That they are resolved, from this moment, to get
Of the king independent and free;
And to give by their valor a nation her birth,
Or to empty their veins, a free gift to the earth,
In Liberty's name, to betoken her worth
To us and the millions to be.

"Columbia's wrongs have gone to the skies;
'T is time that her blood and her spirit should rise
Above her oppressors, till tyranny flies,
And leaves her unfettered, to bear
The flag of a nation instead of a chain—
The palm of her triumph,'mid weakness and pain,
O'er them that were mighty, but struggled in vain
To force her their shackles to wear.

"And, no leaden monarch will we have to stand
Proclaiming our vassalage here, in the land
Of lovely Manhattan! We'll each lend a hand
To give him a jerk or a pull,
And fiat to the ground, in a trice, as we bring
His dignified form, it shall merrily ding,
To sound all around how we honor the king,
And pay our respects to John Bull.

"This, this is the season for trying men's souls,
The nerves of their arms, and the worth of their polls!
So, we'll have his Majesty over the coals,
And make him the first that shall run:
When, heated to melting, he hides in the mould,
We'll hold him there still, till new-shapen and cold;
Then, off he shall go, like a tale that is told,
In the voice of the thundering gun!

"The discomposed Sovereign with us shall unite,
And fly at his friends for our cause in the right—
To scatter his subjects—to purchase our right—
The land of of opression to clear.
And he, to whom, whizzing, his monarch shall come,
In the form of a ball, 'mid the noise of the drum,
The flashes and smoke; will have finished the sum
Of his deeds as a royalist here!"

Then, flat to the earth was his Eminence cast!
The dust rose above him, and mounted the blast,
While a bevy of Rome's leathered sentinels passed,
Raised their wings, and huzzaed as he fell!
But, how the proud royalist felt, when the lead
Of his late British Majesty came at his head,
While some dropped before it, and some turned and fled,
Is more than a Yankee can tell.