SONG OF HUBBARDTON RAID
15
Along the frozen roadside,
Roadside bubbly and rough,
In the wild woods of Hubbardtown,
The land of battle, but not of song,
The land of cider and bean porridge,
The land of johnny cake and hominy,
The land of early rose potatoes,
Potatoes of red skins and smooth,
In the year of our Lord and Saviour,
One thousand, eight hundred and thirty,
Of American independence, fifty-four,
Of the year of anti-masonry, five,
A cherished wife was laid in her tomb,
In a tomb deep and narrow,
In the wildwoods of Hubbardton,
In the land of early rose potatoes.
Many were her friends, the whole town,
Who never more expected to view
The remains again on earth;
