Jasper County Democrat, Volume 5, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 June 1902 — MOLLY PITCHER [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

MOLLY PITCHER

Pitcher (he gunner Is brisk am! young; He’s a lightsome heart nml a merry tongue, An ear like a fox, an eye like a hawk, A foot that would sooner run than walk. And a hand that can touch the linstock home As the lightning darts from the thunderdome. He bates a tory; he loves a fight; The roll of the drum Is his heart's delight; And three things rule the gunner's life: Hfs conntry, his gun, and Ills Irish wife. Oh, Molly, with your eyes so blue! Ob, Molly, Molly, here's to you! Sweet Honor's roll will nye be richer To hold the name of Mohy Pitcher. A bullet comes singing over the brow, And—Pitcher's gun is silent now. Tho brazen throat that roared his will, The shout of his warlike Joy, Is still. The black Ups curl, but they shoot no flame, And the voice that cries on the gunner's name Finds only it's echo where he lie* With his steadfast fnee turned up to the skies. Oh, Molly, Molly, where he lies His last look meets your faithful eyes; His last thought sinks from love to love Of your darling face that bends above. "No one to serve In Pitcher’s stead? Wheel back the gun!” the captain said; When, like a flash, before him stood A figure dashed with smoke and blood. With streaming hair, and eyes of flame, And lips that falter the gunner’s name. "Wheel back his gun, that never yet His fighting duty did forget? His voice shall speak, though he He dead;

I'll serve my husband's gun!” she said. Oh, Molly, now your hour is come! Up, girl, and strike the linstock homel Leap out, swift ball! Away! away! Avenge the gunner's death to-day! All day the great guns barjted and roared; All day the big balls screeched and soared; All day, ’mid the sweating gunners grim, Who tolled in their smoke shroud dense and dim. Sweet Molly labored with courage high, With steady hand and watchful eye, Till the day was ours, and the sinking sun Looked down on the field of Monmouth won, And Molly standing beside her gun. Now, Molly, rest your weary arm! Safe, Molly, all is Safe from harm. Now. woman, bow your aching head, And weep tn sorrow o’er your dead! Next day on that field so, hardly won. Stately and calm stands Washington, And looks where our gallant Greene doth lead A figure clad In motley weed— A soldier’s cap and a soldier’s coat Masking a woman's petticoat. He greets our Molly in kindly wise; He blds her raise her fearful eyes; And now he halls her before them all Comrade and soldier, whate'er befall. 'And since she has played a man's full part, A man's reward for her loyal heart! And Sergeant Molly Pitcher's name Be writ henceforth on the shield of fame!” Oh, Molly, with your eyes so blue! Oh, Molly, Molly, here's to you! Sweet Honor's roll will aye be richer To hold the name of Molly Pitcher. —Laura E. Richards, In St. Nicholas.