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Rh The vengeance burning in every breast. Sunday night their plans were laid, Plans, deep and strong, for the morrow, At nine o'clock on Monday morning, No storms of snow or rain should prevent, Not one minute later, not one minute sooner, Should these raiders meet in Athens, In the land of slates and quarries, On the twenty-ninth day of November, To search that ancient seat of learning.

Ere the sunlight lit the tree-tops, On that memorable Monday morning, When still the darkness shrouded the forests In the wildwoods of Hubbardton, In the land of cider and bean porridge, Porridge made of large speckled beans, Porridge thickened with Indian meal, Meal from the golden, yellow corn,