1776: Cool, Cool, Considerate Men

Oh say do you see what I see?

Congress sitting here in sweet serenity

I could cheer; the reason's clear

For the first time in a year Adams isn't here

And look, the sun is in the sky

A breeze is blowing by, and there's not a single fly

I sing hosanna, hosanna

Hosanna, hosanna

And it's cool

Come ye cool cool conservative men

Our like may never be seen again

We have land, cash in hand

Self-command, future planned

Fortune flies, society survives

In neatly ordered lives with well-endowered wives

Come sing hosanna, hosanna

To our breeding and our banner

We are cool

Come ye cool cool considerate set

We'll dance together to the same minuet

To the right, ever to the right

Never to the left, forever to the right

Let our creed be never to exceed

Regulated speed, no matter what the need

Come sing!

Hosanna, hosanna

Enblazoned on our banner

Is keep

Cool

To the right, ever to the right

Never to the left, forever to the right

Hands attach, tightly latch

Everybody match

I have a new dispatch(?)

(spoken)

"From the Commander, army of the United Colonies in New York, dispatch number 1, 158, to the honorable congress, John Hancock, president. Dear sir, I woke this morning to find that General Howe has landed 25,000 British regulars and Hessian mercenaries on Staten Island and that the fleet under the command of his brother Admiral Lord Howe controls not only the Hudson and the east rivers, but New York Harbor, which now looks like all of London afloat. I can no longer, in good conscience withhold from the congress my certainty that the British military object at this time is Philadelphia. Happy should I be if I could see the means of preventing them, but at present I confess I do not. Oh, how I wish I had never seen the Continental Army. I would have done better to retire to the back country and live in a wigwam. Your obedient, G. Washington."

What we do, we do rationally

We never ever go off half-cocked, not we

Why begin till we know that we can win

And if we cannot win why bother to begin?

We say this game's not of our choosing

Why should we risk losing?

We cool, cool men

Mr. Hancock, you're a man of property, one of us. Why don't you join us in our minuet? Why do you persist in dancing with John Adams? Good lord, sir, you don't even like him!

That is true. He annoys me quite a lot. But still I'd rather trot to Mr. Adams' new gavotte

Why? For personal glory? For a place in history? Be careful, sir. History will brand him and his followers as traitors

Traitors, Mr. Dickinson? To what? The British crown or the British half crown? Fortunately there are not enough men of property in America to dictate policy

Perhaps not, but don't forget that most men with nothing would rather protect the possibility of becoming rich than face the reality of being poor and that is why they will follow us...

To the right, ever to the right

Never to the left, forever to the right

Where there's gold, a market to behold

Tradition that is old, reluctant to be bold

I sing hosanna, hosanna

In a sane and lucid manner

We are cool

We're the cool cool considerate men

The likes of which may never be seen again

With our land, cash in hand

Self-command, future planned

And we'll hold to our gold

Tradition that is old, reluctant to be bold

We say this game's not of our choosing

Why should we risk losing?

We cool, cool, cool

Cool, cool, cool

Cool cool men