The Harrison Gathering.

11

TUNE — "Macgregor's Gathering."

The moon's on the lake and the mist's on the brae,
And our cause has a name that grows dearer each day,
Then gather, gather, gather for Tippecanoe!

Our signal for fight, when the long knife we drew,
Was heard at the dawn, in our vengeful halloo,
When we fought and we conquered at Tippecanoe!

Our once happy mountains, our plains and our bowers!
Our rulers have envied because they are ours!
But we'll ne'er give them up while we've Tippecanoe!

Tho' doom'd to distress, by those arrogant lords,
Whose will is more cruel than firebrand or swords,
We'll rout them and flout them with Tippecanoe!

Would they chase us to ruin, and hunt us with beagles?
For that is their fashion, we'll let loose our eagles
That live in the cabins at Tippecanoe!

While there's leaves in the forest, or foam on the river,
His laurels, despite them, will flourish for ever;
Then gather, gather, gather for Tippecanoe!