Tea Destroyed by Indians
Ye glorious sons of freedom, brave and bold,
That has stood forth -- fair Liberty to hold,
Though you were Indians, come from distant shores,
Like men you acted -- not like savage Moors.
Chorus:
Bostonian's Sons, keep up your courage good,
Or Dye, like Martyrs, in fair free-born blood.
Our Liberty, and Life is now invaded,
And Freedom's brightest charms are darkly shaded,
But we will stand -- and think it noble mirth,
To Dart the man that dare oppress the earth.
How grand the scene! --- (No tyrant shall oppose)
The tea is sunk in spite of all our foes
A Noble sight -- to see th' accursed tea
Mingled with mud -- and ever for to be.
For King and Prince shall know that we are free.
Must we be still, and live on blood-bought ground
And not oppose the Tyrants cursed sound?
We scorn the thought -- our views are well-refin'd
We scorn those slavish shackles of the Mind,
"We've souls that were not made to be confin'd."
Could our Fore-fathers rise from their cold graves,
And view their land with all their children slaves,
What would they say! how would their spirits rend,
And Thunder-strucken, to their graves descend.
Let us with hearts of steel now stand the task,
Throw off all darksome ways, nor wear a Mask,
Oh! May our noble Zeal support our frame,
And brand all Tyrants with eternal Shame.
Ye glorious sons of freedom, brave and bold,
That has stood forth -- fair Liberty to hold,
Though you were Indians, come from distant shores,
Like men you acted -- not like savage Moors.
Chorus:
Bostonian's Sons, keep up your courage good,
Or Dye, like Martyrs, in fair free-born blood.
Our Liberty, and Life is now invaded,
And Freedom's brightest charms are darkly shaded,
But we will stand -- and think it noble mirth,
To Dart the man that dare oppress the earth.
How grand the scene! --- (No tyrant shall oppose)
The tea is sunk in spite of all our foes
A Noble sight -- to see th' accursed tea
Mingled with mud -- and ever for to be.
For King and Prince shall know that we are free.
Must we be still, and live on blood-bought ground
And not oppose the Tyrants cursed sound?
We scorn the thought -- our views are well-refin'd
We scorn those slavish shackles of the Mind,
"We've souls that were not made to be confin'd."
Could our Fore-fathers rise from their cold graves,
And view their land with all their children slaves,
What would they say! how would their spirits rend,
And Thunder-strucken, to their graves descend.
Let us with hearts of steel now stand the task,
Throw off all darksome ways, nor wear a Mask,
Oh! May our noble Zeal support our frame,
And brand all Tyrants with eternal Shame.
