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That our officers, privates, and drummers,
All vow'd they would die to defend her.
But she cared not for us honest fellows,
Who fought and who bled in her wars,
She sneer'd at our gallant Rochambeau,
And turned Lafayette out of doors.

" Ventrebleu ! then I swore a great oath,
No more to such tyrants to kneel;
And so, just to keep up my drumming,
One day I drumm'd down the Bastile.
Ho, landlord ! a stoup of fresh wine.
Come, comrades, a bumper we'll try,
And drink to the year eighty-nine
And the glorious fourth of July !


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