Misc Traditional – The Epistle To The Troops In Boston (Guitar)

      C
By my faith, but I think ye’re all makers of bulls

          G7
With your brains in your breeches, your bums in your skulls

    C
Get home with your muskets, and put up your swords

    G7                         C
And look in your books for the meaning of words

    F           C           F            C
You see now, my honeys, how much your mistaken

    F          C           G7       C
For Concord by discord can never be taken.

    C
How brave ye went out with your muskets all bright

    G7
And thought to be-frighten the folk with the sight

    C
But when you got there how they powder’d your pums

    G7                        C
And all the way home how they pepper’d your bums

    F          C         F       C
And is it not, honeys, a comical crack

      F            C            G7          C
To be proud in the face, and be shot in the back

     C
With all of your talking and all of your wording

    G7
and all of your shouting and marching and swording

    C
How come ye to think, now, they did not know how

      G7                       C
To be after their firelocks as smartly as you?

         F           C            F          C
Why, you see now, my honeys, ’tis nothing at all

       F           C            G7           C
But to pull at the trigger, and pop goes the ball

    C
And what have you got now with all your designing

      G7
But a town without victuals to sit down and dine in

    C
And stare at the floor and look at your noodles

    G7                         C
And sing, how the Yankees have beaten the Doodles

    F              C                F           C
I’m sure if you’re wise you’ll make peace for a dinner

    F            C            G7           C
For fighting and fasting will soon make ye thinner