Paul’s Ride

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In April 1875--the British would march to stay alive
There would be a signal at the church-- a lantern, when ready, would be perched

One flash by land, two flashes by sea--he tells his friend, on the other side he will be
He rowed non-stop to the other shore-- his friend waited for knocks at the door

He went up like a mountain climber to window in the tower--looked at his town in the moonlit hour
He saw the ghoulish graveyard, but did not dwell--for now, he thought, all is well

He’s anxious to get on his horse and ride--he knows Paul Revere’s on the other side
He watches and waits for the wandering light--the second one he sees is beautifully bright

There are many horses in the street--the job he will do must be complete
The horses’ hooves were quiet in sand--and clippity clop when on land

He crossed the bridge at twelve, in the dark--the rooster screamed and the dog did bark
At Lexington, he thought of people crying--and imagined so many would be dying

In Concord at two, sounds of sheep would burst--he wondered who would be dying first
At the British soldiers, farmers would fire--they reloaded their guns and shot until they were tired

He warned everyone with his cries of alarm--he got the people ready to be armed
The ride of Paul Revere will be forgotten never--he is a legend who will be remembered forever





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