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A Hasty Plate of Soup.


O hot was the plate, and right hasty the soup,
That we gave to the red-coated Briton,
When, thundering down on old Chippewa's field,
His hosts by our legions were smitten.

But hotter and hastier far, was the plate
On Niagara's field that we gave him;
Tho' his lion roared loud, we forced him to yield,
No numbers nor valor could save him.

And hasty and hot was the plate that we gave
To the Mexican foemen, defying;
So hot was the plate that they fled from the soup,
And left us their dinners all frying!

Cherubusco can tell how our fires were a-glow,
And Contreras, ghastly and gory;
And our soup it rained hot on Chapultepec's hill
Till it won us a halo of glory.

Then hurra for the plate and the soup of our Scott,
And hasty and hot may he ever,
To foemen of freedom, at home and abroad,
Deal it out, and defend us for ever!