Cornwallis led a country dance,
The like was never seen, sir,
Much retrograde and much advance
And all with Gen'ral Greene, sir;
They rambled up and rambled down,
Joined hands and then they run, sir,
Our General Greene to Charlestown and
The Earl to Wilmington, sir.
Greene, in the South, then danced a set,
And got a mighty name, sir,
Cornwallis jigged with young Fayette,
But suffered in his fame, sir;
Quoth he, "My guards are weary grown
With footing country dances,
They never at St. James' shone
At capers, kicks, or prances.
And Washington, Columbia's son,
Whom easy nature taught, sir,
That grace which can't by pains be won
Nor Plutus' gold be bought, sir;
Now hand in hand they circle round,
This ever-dancing peer, sir,
Their gentle movements soon confound
the earl, as they draw near, sir.
His music soon forgets to play,
His feet can no more move, sir,
And all his bands now curse the day
They jigged to our shore, sir;
Now, Tories all, what can you say?
Come, is this not a griper:
That while your hopes you danced away,
'Tis you must pay the piper?
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Original date: 2011/10/30 —
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