Prior to the battle of Lexington in 1775, the local militia, called to arms by Paul Revere, drew themselves up on the local Green, and quickly found themselves outnumbered 800 to about 20. The lobsterbacks had snuck out of Boston, in force, to pull a surprise attach on the outnumbered minutemen.
After the first shot was fired, the bloody lobsterbacks fired at the Americans and advanced with bayonets. No declaration of war had been made. No foreign power had invaded. No event had happened to cause brother to fire on brother. But there it was! The shot that was heard around the world!
Next, the lobsterbacks marched on Concord and there the militia were waiting and they fired first. The Americans came from all sides. They fired on and harassed the enemy until they turned and ran, killing and wounding almost three hundred of the eight hundred soldiers. They ran back to Boston, being harrassed all the way, without gaining anything that they had originally sought in the countryside. They retreated to inside the confines of what they thought would be safety. They were wrong.
An incensed populace arose, marched and surrounded Boston and held the enemy in check. The lobsterbacks were surrounded.
It was some time, but not too long, when the American forces now under the leadership of one great general, brought up the big guns hauled in over the mountains from Fort Ticonderoga. Once the siege began the outcome was certain and the bloody lobsterbacks abandoned Boston. And the New England rabble, as the bloody lobsterbacks loved to call them, rushed into Boston and liberated the city and all of its inhabitants.
In that city, on that day, liberty and justice were had. Delivered in the only way that it could be. By force of arms.
Now some of you might be thinking that I am recanting a brief history lesson and you would be right.
And, some of you might be thinking that I am telling a story, making an anology concerning North Shore, and you too would be correct.
I say every dog has its day. And that day gets closer with every passing moment.
Paul has made his midnight ride. The call to arms has been made. The farmers and honest merchants are approaching the local Green. Soon, our shot will be heard. And nothing will be the same again.
By Steven D. Lange
After the first shot was fired, the bloody lobsterbacks fired at the Americans and advanced with bayonets. No declaration of war had been made. No foreign power had invaded. No event had happened to cause brother to fire on brother. But there it was! The shot that was heard around the world!
Next, the lobsterbacks marched on Concord and there the militia were waiting and they fired first. The Americans came from all sides. They fired on and harassed the enemy until they turned and ran, killing and wounding almost three hundred of the eight hundred soldiers. They ran back to Boston, being harrassed all the way, without gaining anything that they had originally sought in the countryside. They retreated to inside the confines of what they thought would be safety. They were wrong.
An incensed populace arose, marched and surrounded Boston and held the enemy in check. The lobsterbacks were surrounded.
It was some time, but not too long, when the American forces now under the leadership of one great general, brought up the big guns hauled in over the mountains from Fort Ticonderoga. Once the siege began the outcome was certain and the bloody lobsterbacks abandoned Boston. And the New England rabble, as the bloody lobsterbacks loved to call them, rushed into Boston and liberated the city and all of its inhabitants.
In that city, on that day, liberty and justice were had. Delivered in the only way that it could be. By force of arms.
Now some of you might be thinking that I am recanting a brief history lesson and you would be right.
And, some of you might be thinking that I am telling a story, making an anology concerning North Shore, and you too would be correct.
I say every dog has its day. And that day gets closer with every passing moment.
Paul has made his midnight ride. The call to arms has been made. The farmers and honest merchants are approaching the local Green. Soon, our shot will be heard. And nothing will be the same again.
By Steven D. Lange