An Irishman's Epistle (a comic song from the American Revolution, sung by Eddie Biggins)

An Irishman's Epistle To The Officers And Troops At Boston (tune: Irish Washerwoman) By my faith, but I think ye're all makers of bulls With your brains in your britches and ass in your skulls Get home with your muskets, and put up your swords And look in your books for the meaning of words Ye see now, my honies, how much your mistaken For Concord by Discord can never be beaten Ye see now, me honies, how wrong you can be Such a medley of people could never agree How brave ye went out with your muskets all bright And thought to be-frighten the folks with the sight And when you got there how they powdered your pums And all the way home how they peppered your bums Why ye see now, my honies, 'tis nothing at all To pull at the trigger and pop goes the ball Is it not, me honeys, a comical farce To be proud in the face, and be shot in the arse? How come you to think now, they did not know how To be after their firelocks as smartly as you? And what have you got now with all your designing,