June 17, 1775
Up the hill, up the hill, up the hill, onward
marched the great, scarlet snake, the British regulars.
They sailed slow into the bay, expecting no fight,
and found war at Breed's Hill, of infamous placing.
Gage—haughty—commanded CHARGE! reliant in numbers;
they fell by the masses there, at patriot breastworks.
Colonials held steady, chest deep in the trenches;
they used up their good lead there, and more besides that, sure.
Blood fed the ground all around, more so for the Britons;
thrice up the hill redcoats marched, up the hill, onward.
American lines, they broke; some died in the breaking.
The British held victory, but to little effect here.
Revolutionaries showed they'd fight, complete to the dying;
at Bunker Hill not all was lost, not all in that battle.
Up the hill, o'r the hill, past the hill, onward
came the great, scarlet snake, the British regulars.
But they knew not would come a day when they likewise retreated,
defeated by peasants here, on New-Landers' soil.