To Waterloo, with sad ado,

And many a sigh and groan,

Amongst the dead, came Patty Head,
To look for Peter Stone.

THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR, LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS

R

"O prithee tell, good sentinel,

If I shall find him here?

I'm come to weep upon

his corse,

My Ninety-Second dear!

"Into our town a serjeant came, With ribands all so fine,

A-flaunting in his cap-alas!

66

His bow enlisted mine!

They taught him how to turn his toes,
And stand as stiff as starch;

I thought that it was love and May,
But it was love and March!

"A sorry March indeed to leave

The friends he might have kep',

No March of Intellect it was,

But quite a foolish step.

"O prithee tell, good sentinel,

If hereabout he lies?

I want a corpse with reddish hair,

And very sweet blue eyes."

Her sorrow on the sentinel

Appear'd to deeply strike :

"Walk in," he said, "

among the dead,

And pick out which you like."

And soon she picked out Peter Stone,

Half turned into a corse;

A cannon was his bolster, and
His mattrass was a horse.

"O Peter Stone, O Peter Stone,
Lord here has been a skrimmage!
What have they done to your poor breast
That used to hold my image?"

"O Patty Head, O Patty Head,
You're come to my last kissing;
Before I'm set in the Gazette

As wounded, dead, and missing!

"Alas! a splinter of a shell

Right in my stomach sticks; French mortars don't agree so well

With stomachs as French bricks.