Amid Boston Overdose Crisis, a Pair of Harvard Students Are Bringing Narcan to the Red Line


At First Cambridge City Council Election Forum, Candidates Clash Over Building Emissions


Harvard’s Updated Sustainability Plan Garners Optimistic Responses from Student Climate Activists


‘Sunroof’ Singer Nicky Youre Lights Up Harvard Yard at Crimson Jam


‘The Architect of the Whole Plan’: Harvard Law Graduate Ken Chesebro’s Path to Jan. 6


A Story of Bunker Hill.


YES, Silas, 't was at Bunker Hill that Grandsir Peavy fell, And how it was I s'pose you must have often heard me tell.

No? Then 'I'll tell you. Bunker Hill was fought some time ago,

When Grandsir was n't very old, as you most likely know. He lived in Cambridge at the time, and, as he was n't rich, He did odd jobs about the town, for college boys and sich; He brought 'em drink and baccy, and he bought their cast-off clothes,-

They called him Nosey Peavy, for he had a Roman nose. One day a feller came along, and, "How d'e do ?" says he. And Grandsir answered, "Nicely, sir, I'm much obliged to ye."

The feller says, "See here, my friend, I think there 'II be a row,

And if you 'll come along with me I'm pretty sure as how You'll get a chance to pick up clothes without expending cash."

Says Grandsir, "If that's so, my friend, I'm on your side, by dash !"

"You'll have to use a gun, "remarked the feller in reply. Says Grandsir, "I've done that afore." And up he jumped quite spry,

And got his gun, and went along, -the same gun that before Your Great-great-grandsir Orcutt used in the old Injun war.

The morning dawned on Bunker Hill, where all the Yankee boys

Had spent the night in making forts, and hadn't made a noise.

Prescott was there, and Putnam too, and so was Grandsir P., And Grandsir was a spunky man as any of the three. The redcoats, -that's the Englishmen, -observing what was done,

Got awful mad, and vowed that this had gone too far for fun;

They formed in ranks prepared to fight, and, as they came along,

Your Grandsir said they looked to him about a million strong.

The Yankees loaded up their guns, and Grandsir did the same, -

He could n't ram his ball clear down, but then he wa' n't to blame,

For, as it turned out afterwards, your uncle Eben Small Had charged that gun, five years before, with powder and with ball.

On came the redcoats. Prescott says, "Don't fire until you see

Their eyeballs white. Then peg away with all your might," says he.

On came the redcoats. Grandsir saw an officer, whose coat

He thought would fit him, so he raised his gun, prepared to shoot

On came the redcoats, -till at last their eyeballs all looked white,

And Grandsir looked along his gun, and made sure of the sight,

And pulled the trigger. With a crash, and with a cloud of smoke

The air was filled. Your Grandsir's piece the first the peace had broke, -

But when the smoke had cleared, and all the redcoats cleared as well,

The Yankees saw in Grandsir's place the place where Grand-sir fell.

His musket had been filled to full, in going off had bust, In splinters had gone off, and left poor Grandsir in the dust.

Bury him ! Lor'! Why, Silas boy, what put that in your head?

Your Grandsir fell at Bunker Hill, but then he was n't dead. He lay there faint-like for a while, but finally up he got, About the time the redcoats charged, and sent our men to pot.

When all the Yankees ran away, why, Grandsir he ran too, - Which, Silas, if he had n't done, there'd be no me nor you.

There was a student in the fight, whose clothes he used to buy;

Just as our men began to run, your Grandsir caught his eye, And, as they were not far apart, he thought it was but right To say, "I hope I see you well," for Grandsir was polite. The student stared, and then sung out, "Why, Nosey, is that you,

Without your nose ?" Your Grandsir felt, and sure enough 't was true; -

He'd wondered why so queerly he had lost the sense of smell, -

His musket, going off, had taken off his nose as well.

Have I his picture ? Yes, I have; but 't is n't very good. The man that took it did it, though, as nicely as he could. It was a pleasant-spoken man, that turned up years ago, Who cut folks out in paper, and put black behind to show. But Grandsir Peavy 'd lost his nose, and so the picture's queer,

And not exactly like a head, but rather like a square.

Yes, Silas, we should all be proud of Grandsir, as you say.

He fought and bled for liberty upon that glorious day. We're luckier than most folks. Be they uppish as they will,

They did n't all have ancestors that fell at Bunker Hill.


Want to keep up with breaking news? Subscribe to our email newsletter.