At Erie, Burlington, and Stony Creek,
He's like the wretched bird, he "can't get out."

_Mrs. Secord_. You speak, friend Penn, as if you saw the fight,
Not like a simple bearer of the news.

_Quaker_. Why, so I did.

_Mrs. Secord_. You did! Pray tell us how it was;
For ever have I heard that Quakers shunned
The sight of blood.

_Quaker_. None more than I.
Yet innate forces sometimes tell o'er use
Against our will. But this was how it happed:
Thou seest, Mistress Secord, I'd a load
Of sound potatoes, that I thought to take
To Vincent's camp, but on the way I met
A British officer, who challenged me; saith he,
"Friend, whither bound?" "Up to the Heights," say I,
"To sell my wares." "Better," saith he,
"Go to the Yankee camp; they'll pay a price
Just double ours, for we are short of cash."
"I'll risk the pay," say I, "for British troops;
Nay, if we're poor, I can afford the load,
And p'rhaps another, for my country's good."
"And say'st thou so, my Quaker! Yet," saith he,
"I hear you Quakers will not strike a blow
To guard your country's rights, nor yet your own."
"No, but we'll hold the stakes," cried I. He laughed.