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William McCarty, comp. The American National Song Book. 1842.

A Bloody Battle

  • Between the United States troops under the command of Gov. Harrison, and several tribes of Indians, near the Prophet’s town, Nov. 7th 1811


  • O’ER western hills, Columbia’s martial band

    March’d forth to guard her own defenceless land,

    From savage inroads, on her new frontiers,

    To defend the people, and allay their fears.

    Harrison, a commander of great renown,

    Led on our troops near by the Prophet’s town.

    After toils o’ercome, and obstructions past,

    Near this savage town they encamp’d at last.

    November the seventh, before ’twas light,

    Those Indian tribes began a bloody fight;

    Dark was the hour, and gloomy all around,

    When horrid yells from savage tribes did sound.

    The doleful war-whoop roar’d incessantly,

    Which plainly did foretell some mischief nigh;

    Then on our troops they rush’d with fiercest rage,

    Who quickly form’d their ranks, did them engage.

    Still pressing on, like heroes they did fight;

    They charged those tribes, and put them all to flight;

    Their tomahawks they used in firm array,

    Yet to our gallant troops they soon gave way.

    What carnage’s seen—the dead confused lie,

    Our troops and savage men both mix and die;

    And garments roll’d in blood, stood full in view,

    Caused by that base, that wicked Indian crew.

    How many youths that left their native shore,

    Their dearest friends—alas! are now no more.

    O! we lament so many met their doom,

    New to the field, and heroes in the bloom.

    Columbia’s heroic bands, her pride and boast,

    And they who speak the truest, praise them most,

    Their great exploits appear sublimely bright,

    Shine in their native, not a borrow’d light.