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11.Retreat then! Pell-mell!
Back to your graves! Back to the hills, old limpers!
I do not think you belong here, anyhow.

12.But there is one thing that belongs here—shall I tell
you what it is, gentlemen of Boston?

13.I will whisper it to the Mayor—he shall send a committee
to England,
They shall get a grant from the Parliament, go with a
cart to the royal vault—haste!
Dig out King George's coffin, unwrap him quick
from the grave-clothes, box up his bones for a
journey,
Find a swift Yankee clipper—here is freight for you,
black-bellied clipper,
Up with your anchor! shake out your sails! steer straight
toward Boston bay.

14.Now call for the President's marshal again, bring out
the government cannon,
Fetch home the roarers from Congress, make another
procession, guard it with foot and dragoons.

15.This centre-piece for them:
Look! all orderly citizens—look from the windows,
women!

16.The committee open the box, set up the regal ribs,
glue those that will not stay,