Page:New song on the death of General Abercrombie.pdf/4

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At length he faintish turning, The blood came trickling down, Yet no man could persuade him, To go and quit his ground : Tho’ by two men supported, His spy-glass in his hand, ’Mongst clouds of smoke, both shell & shot, Still giving the command

The French beat off now from our left, Did march with furious rage ; Whilst every man from right to left, Was closely now engag’d. The skies with smoke were darken’d, No slackness there was found, Whilst many tender mothers sons, Lay bleeding on the ground.

Four hundred prisoners of the French, They did with us remain ; Besides a greater number, Lay dead upon the plain. Three thousand kill’d and wounded Including prisoners too, The French behind left in our lines, And horses not a few.

The French of their great victory, Began now to despair ; The thoughts of their great plunder too, Was banish’d in the air ; They turn’d their backs upon us,