Fourth Of July Ode Poem by John Pierpont

With patriotic glee,
Columbia's jubilee
Once more we hail:
Let nothing damp our joys-
The Temp'rance pledge destroys
The last foe that annoys.-
Quail, monster, quail!


To aid us in the fray,
A new and bold array
Push to the field:-
Men who for years have quaff'd
The devil's firy draught,
Have grappled with the Craft,
Thundering 'Yield!'


Through this most blessed breach
The drunkard we can reach!-
Oh! joyful sound!
The wife's crushed hopes revive-
The drunkard's children thrive-
The dead return alive-
The lost are found!


The captive to unbind-
To save from wreck the mind
Torn, tempest-tossed-
May Heaven this labor speed
Till from the foe we're freed,
And not one heart shall bleed
For loved ones lost.


Our fathers, when they broke
Proud Britain's galling yoke,
Fought one good fight!-
A better one fight they
Who 'cast the bowl away,'
And toast this glorious day
In water bright.


Reformers, go ahead!
No more let it be said
By freedom's foe,
That this, our fair domain,
Wears worse than British chain,
Under the tyrant reign
Of 'Death & Co.'