"The Yankee’s Return from Camp" — Song lyrics — Broadside reproduction from The Printing Office of Edes & Gill in Boston

A reproduction of an early version of “Yankee Doodle,” printed under the title The Yankee’s Return from Camp. The broadside preserves one of the Revolutionary era’s most interesting pieces of political music, a song that began as ridicule and was ultimately adopted by Americans as an expression of defiance and patriotism.

By the 1760s, “Yankee Doodle” was already in circulation, and British soldiers used the tune to mock American colonists. During the Revolution, however, Americans appropriated the song for themselves. The tune became closely associated with the Patriot cause and remained one of the best-known musical symbols of the Revolution.

Print size: 8.5" x 11.5"

Full text of the print

The Farmer and his Son's return from a visit to the CAMP.

Father and I went down to camp,
Along with Captain Gooding,
And there we see the men and boys
As thick as hasty pudding.

Yankey doodle keep it up,
Yankey doodle dandy,
Mind the music and the step
And with the girls be handy

And there we see a thousand men,
As rich as 'Squire David,
And what they wasted every day,
I wish it had been saved.

Yankey doodle, &c.

The 'lasses they eat every day,
Would keep an house a winter;
They have as much that I'll be bound,
They eat it when they're mind to.

Yankey doodle, &c.

And there we see a swamping gun,
Large as a log of maple,
Upon a ducid little cart,
A load for father's cattle.

Yankey doodle, &c.

And every time they shoot it off,
It takes a horn of powder,
And makes a noise like father's gun,
Only a nation louder.

Yankey doodle, &c.

I went as nigh to one myself,
As 'Siah's underpinning;
And father when as nigh again,
I thought the duce was in him.

Yankey doodle, &c.

Cousin Simon grew so bold,
I thought he would have cock'd it;
It scar'd me so I shriek'd it off,
And hung by father's pocket.

Yankey doodle, &c.

And captain Davis had a gun,
He kind of clapt his hand on't,
And stuck a crooked stabbing iron
Upon the little end on't.

Yankey doodle, &c.

And there I see a pumpkin shell,
As big as mother's bason,
And every time they touch'd it off,
They scamper'd like the nation.

Yankey doodle, &c.

I see a little barrel too,
The heads were made of leather,
They knock upon with little clubs,
And call'd the folks together.

Yankey doodle, &c.

And there was captain Washington,
And gentlefolks about him,
They say he's grown so tarnal proud,
He will not ride without them.

Yankey doodle, &c.

He got him on his meeting clothes,
Upon a slapping stallion,
He set the world along in rows,
In hundreds and in millions.

Yankey doodle, &c.

The flaming ribbons in his hat,
They look'd so taring fine ah,
I wanted pockily to get,
To give to my Jemimah.

Yankey doodle, &c.

I see another snarl of men,
A digging graves they told me,
So tarnal long, so tarnal deep,
They 'tended they should hold me.

Yankey doodle, &c.

If scar'd me so I hook'd it off,
Nor stopt as I remember,
Nor turn'd about 'till I got home,
Lock'd up in mother's chamber.

Yankey doodle, &c.