One, two three,
That’s how many will flee,
To warn the other colonists,
Before the British arrive with their iron fists,
Prescott, Dawes, Revere,
Those are the ones who the British will fear,
For they were the ones with the word,
Of the British attacking, that’s what they heard.

“The British are coming! The British are coming!”
That’s what the colonists were humming,
The word spread like fire,
To win this battle was their desire,
The colonists marched,
Even if the soldiers were parched,
They knew what the British were eyeing,
Which were the American guns, the colonists were supplying.

The British are the ones who thought,
That fighting is not what the colonists were taught,
They were wrong, or so they’d come to see,
That these “peasant” colonists would not go and flee,
The British and colonists met outside of Concord,
Loosing this battle neither of them could afford,
Steady eyes all of them had,
To see each other, they were not glad.

Know one knows who took the first shot,
But war is what they both got,
Kill by kill,
Death tolls is what they would fill,
The colonists were overrun,
Even though they were still not done,
This marked the start of the Revolution,
To both of them, war was the only solution.