Meanwhile the British manoeuvr’d to draw us out for a pitch’d battle, But we dared not trust the chances of a pitch’d battle.

We fought the fight in detachments, Sallying forth we fought at several points, but in each the luck was against us, Our foe advancing, steadily getting the best of it, push’d us back to the works on this hill, Till we turn’d menacing here, and then he left us.

That was the going out of the brigade of the youngest men, two thousand strong, Few return’d, nearly all remain in Brooklyn.

That and here my General’s first battle, No women looking on nor sunshine to bask in, it did not conclude with applause, Nobody clapp’d hands here then.