Schoolhouse Rock - History Rock
The Shot Heard Round the World
Music & Lyrics: Bob Dorough
Sung by: Bob Dorough
{The British are comin'!
The British are comin'!}
Now the ride of Paul Revere
Set the nation on its ear,
And the shot at Lexington
Heard round the world.
When the British fired
In the early dawn,
The War of Independence had begun,
The die was cast, the rebel flag unfurled.
And on to Concord marched the foe,
To seize the arsenal there you know,
Waking folks, searching all around.
Till our militia stopped them in their tracks,
At the Old North Bridge, we turned them back
And chased those Redcoats back to Boston town.
And the shot heard round the world
Was the start of the revolution.
The minutemen were ready, on the move.
Take your powder, take your gun,
Report to General Washington,
Hurry men, there's not an hour to lose.
Now at famous Bunker Hill,
Even though we lost, it was quite a thrill.
The rebel Colonel Prescott proved he was wise.
Outnumbered and low on ammunition,
As the British stormed his position,
He said, "Hold your fire till you see the whites of their eyes."
Though the next few years were rough,
General Washington's men proved they were tough.
Those hungry, ragged boys would not be beat.
One night they crossed the Delaware,
Surprised the Hessians in their lair,
And at Valley Forge they just bundled up their feet.
Now the shot heard round the world
Was the start of the revolution.
The minutemen were ready, on the move.
Take your blanket, take your son,
Report to General Washington.
We've got our rights and now it's time to prove.
Well, they showed such determination
That they won the admiration
Of countries 'cross the sea like France and Spain.
Who loaned the colonies ships and guns
And put the British on the run,
And the Continental Army on its feet again.
And though they lost some battles too,
The Americans swore they'd see it through.
Their raiding parties %shut up, hit and run.
At Yorktown the British could not retreat,
Bottled up by Washington and the French Fleet,
Cornwallis surrendered and finally we had won.
}} {The winner!}
}} {Hurray!}
From the shot heard round the world,
To the end of the revolution,
The continental rabble took the day.
And the father of our country
beat the British there at Yorktown,
and brought freedom to you and me and the U.S.A.
God bless America!
Let freedom ring!
Schoolhouse Rock - History Rock
No More Kings
Music & Lyrics: Lynn Ahrens
Sung by: Lynn Ahrens
Rockin' and a-rollin',
Splishin' and a-splashin'
Over the horizon,
What can it be?
The pilgrims sailed the sea
to find a place to call their own.
In their ship Mayflower,
They hoped to find a better home.
They finally knocked on Plymouth Rock
And someone said, "We're there!
It may not look like home,
But at this point I don't care."
Oh, they were missin' Mother England
They swore their loyalty until the very end.
"Anything you say king, it's okay king,
You know it's kind of scary on your own.
Gonna build a new land the way we planned
Could you help us run it till it's grown?"
They planted corn you know,
They built their houses one by one.
And bit by bit they worked
Until the colonies were done.
They looked around, yeah, up and down,
And someone said, "Hurray!
If the king could only see us now,
He would be proud of us today."
They knew that now they'd run their own land,
But George the Third still vowed
He'd rule them till the end.
"Anything I say, do it my way now,
Anything I say do it my way.
Don't you get to feelin' independent,
Cause I'm gonna force you to obey."
He taxed their property,
He didn't give them any choice.
And back in England,
He didn't give them any voice.
{That's called taxation without representation, and it's not fair.}
But when the colonies complained,
The king said, "I don't care!"
"He even has the nerve to tax our cup of tea!
To put it kindly king, we really don't agree.
Gonna show you how we feel,
We're gonna dump this tea...
And turn this harbor into
The biggest cup of tea in history!"
They wanted no more Mother England.
They knew the time had come for them to take command.
"It's very clear you're being unfair, king,
No matter what you say we won't obey.
Gonna hold a revolution now, king,
And we're gonna run it all our way!"
With no more kings...
{We're gonna elect a president!}
No more kings...
{He's gonna do what the people want!}
No more kings...
{We're gonna run things our way!}
No more kings...
{No one's gonna tell us what to do!}
No more kings!
Rockin' and a-rollin',
Splishin' and a-splashin'
Over the horizon,
what could it be?
Looks like it's going to be
A free country.
LOYALIST SONGS
of the American Revolution
THE REBELS (1778)
(sung to the tune: Black Joak)
"Perhaps no song written during the American Revolution better illustrates the loyalist point
of view.
These angry, sarcastic lyrics are some of the most emotional left behind by the loyal
Americans."
Ye brave honest subjects who dare to be loyal,
And have stood the brunt of every trial,
Of hunting shirts and rifle guns;
Come listen awhile and I'll tell you a song;
I'll show you those Yankees are all in the wrong,
Who, with blustering look and most awkward gait,
'Gainst their lawful sovereign dare for to prate,
With their hunting shirts and rifle guns.
The arch-rebels, barefooted tatterdemalions,
In baseness exceed all other rebellions,
With their hunting shirts and rifle guns:
To rend the empire, the most infamous lies,
Their mock-patriot Congress, do always devise;
Independence, like the first rebels, they claim,
But their plots will be damned in the annals of fame,
With their hunting shirts and rifle guns.
Forgetting the mercies of Great Britain's King,
Who saved their forefathers' necks from the string,
With their hunting shirts and rifle guns,
They renounce all allegiance and take up their arms,
Assemble together like hornets in swarms,
So dirty their backs, and so wretched their show,
That carrion-crow follows wherever they go,
With their hunting shirts and rifle guns.
With loud peels of laughter, you sides, sirs, would crack,
To see General Convict and Colonel Shoe-Black,
With their hunting shirts and rifle guns.
See cobblers and quacks, rebel priests and the like,
Pettifoggers and barbers, with sword and with pike,
All strutting the standard of Satan beside,
And honest names using, their black deeds to hide,
With their hunting shirts and rifle guns.
This perjured banditti, now ruin this land,
And o'er its poor people claim lawless command,
With their hunting shirts and rifle guns.
Their pasteboard dollars prove a common curse,
They don't chink like silver and gold in our purse,
With nothing their leaders have paid their debts off,
Their honor's, dishonor, and justice they scoff,
With their hunting shirts and rifle guns.
For one lawful ruler, many tyrants we've got,
Who force young and old to their wars, to be shot,
With their hunting shirts and rifle guns.
Our good King, God speed him! never used men so,
We then could speak, act, and like freemen could go,
But committees enslave us, our liberty's gone,
Our trade and church murdered; our country's undone,
By hunting shirts and rifle guns.
Come take up you glasses, each true loyal heart,
And may every rebel meet his due dessert,
With his hunting shirt and rifle gun.
May Congress, Conventions, those damned inquisitions,
Be fed with hot sulphur from Lucifer's kitchens,
May commerce and peace again be restored,
And Americans own their true sovereign lord,
Then oblivion to shirts and rifle guns.
GOD SAVE THE KING!
(Originally published in the Pennsylvania Ledger, 1778)
Lyrics: Captain Smyth, Simcoe's Queen's Rangers
TRADESMEN'S SONG
for his Majesty's Birthday, 1777
(sung to the tune: When Britain First at Heaven's Command)
"The British army had just begun their nine-month occupation of Philadelphia
when this loyalist ditty appeared in the Pennsylvania Ledger."
Again, my social Friends, we meet
To celebrate our annual display
This great, this glorious Natal Day:
'Tis George's Natal Day we sing,
Our firm, our steady Friend and King.
For Britain's Parliament and Laws
He waves his own Imperial Power,
For this (Old England's glorious Cause)
May Heaven on him its blessings shower,
And Colonies, made happy, sing,
Great George, their real Friend and King.
Since Britain first at Heaven's command
Arose from out the Azure Main,
Did ever, o'er this jarring land
A Monarch with more firmness reign?
Then to the Natal Day we'll sing,
Of George, our sacred Friend and King.
To Charlotte fair, our matchless Queen,
To all his blooming heavenly Line,
To all their Family and Friends,
Let us in hearty chorus join,
And George's Natal Day let's sing,
Our gracious Father, Friend, and King.
And may the heavenly Powers combine,
While we with loyal hearts implore
That one of his most sacred Line
May rule these Realms till time's no more.
And we, with cheerful voices sing,
Great George, our steady, natal King.
--Pennsylvania Ledger, October 22, 1777
The PAUSING AMERICAN LOYALIST
"Although this isn't a song but rather a poem based on Hamlet's 'To be or not
to be' speech,
it depicts the very difficult position of the loyalist when pressured by fellow
colonists
to sign an oath of fidelity to the Continental Congress.
As it shows, some became very reluctant 'rebels'."
To sign, or not to sign? That is the question.
Whether 'twere better for an honest man
To sign, and so be safe; or to resolve,
Betide what will, against associations,
And, by retreating, shun them. To fly - I reck
Not where: And, by that flight, t' escape
Feathers and tar, and thousand other ills
That loyalty is heir to: 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To fly -- to want -To want? Perchance to starve: Ay, there's the rub!
For, in that chance of want, what ills may come
To patriot rage, when I have left my all -Must give me pause: -- There's the respect
That makes us trim, and bow to men we hate.
For, who would bear th' indignities o' th' times,
Congress decrees, and wild convention plans,
The laws controll'd, and inj'ries unredressed,
The insolence of knaves, and thousand wrongs
Which patient liege men from vile rebels take,
When he, sans doubt, might certain safety find,
Only by flying? Who would bend to fools,
And truckle thus to mad, mob-chosen upstarts,
But that the dread of something after flight
(In that blest country, where, yet, no moneyless
Poor wight can live) puzzles the will,
And makes ten thousands rather sign -- and eat,
Than fly -- to starve on loyalty. -Thus, dread of want makes rebels of us all:
And thus the native hue of loyalty
Is sicklied o'er with a pale cast of trimming;
And enterprises of great pith and virtue,
But unsupported, turn their streams away,
And never come to action.
Middlesex Journal, January 30, 1776
GOD SAVE THE KING
God save great George our King,
Long live our noble King,
God Save the King!
Send him victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us,
God save the King.
O Lord, our God, arise,
Scatter his enemies,
And make them fall,
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks!
On him our hearts are fix't,
O save us all.
O grant him long to see
Friendship and unity,
Always increase:
May he his septre sway,
All loyal souls obey,
Join heart and voice, huzzah!
God save the King!