The Peg-Legged Patriot Poem by David Welch

Jeremiah Brown limped a lot
ever since the age of five,
when a horse trampled his left shin,
the boy was given up to die.

But he pulled through amazingly,
thought the leg had met the saw.
So he was fitted for a new peg-leg,
at this insistence of his pa.

It didn't look like most peg-legs,
it was not a solid shaft of wood.
But rather a thick bar of iron,
with a sleeve that fit quite good.

He never let it slow him much,
he even learned how to run.
With a slight limp-gait he went,
along with other boys having fun.

And when it came to working fields,
Jeremiah, he was no slouch.
He was always ready when pa called,
up early so he could help.

He wasn't just skilled at the labor,
but was always taken on hunts.
With his Kentucky rifle he had no equal,
and every shooting contest he won.

In the year seventeen seventy-nine
the revolution was in full swing.
A call went up through the Hudson Vale
for militia to press forth the thing.

Jeremiah walked into Isaac's tavern,
fully intending to sign himself on,
but old Colonel Wright, town commander
said "Sorry Brown, you can't come along."

"It isn't that we doubt your heart,
nobody here could speak ill of that,
It's just that to fight we must move at one,
and that leg would cause you to lag.

"It does not seem fair, but war rarely is,
Aad I'm sorry it had to be this way.
But an army is as strong as its weakest,
so it looks like you will have to stay."

Jeremiah was stunned at first,
he just nodded and slowly walked out.
Then his anger manifested,
and he drank himself into a black-out.

When it cleared he returned to farm,
where he soon was by townsfolk told
that a village guard was being formed,
made up mostly of men quite old.

With the militia gone for Washington's force
there was nobody else left behind,
so Jeremiah took up his rotating watch,
doing his part to ‘hold the line.'

For long weeks nothing happened,
no redcoats strayed near the town.
They had Washington's army to fight,
and had little care for such remote grounds.

They one day not too long after
Washington's men took Stony Point,
while Jeremiah slept a cry went up,
redcoat patrol by Billy Hoyt's!

The five other guards went out to see,
while Jeremiah struggled to wake.
In a crash of muskets the guards died,
sending but one redcoat to his fate…

When Jeremiah got up, and rode near
he found the old men dead in a field,
and on the far side were six mounted men,
and one redcoat already killed.

Jeremiah did not hesitate,
he drew one up into his sights.
His Kentucky fired in dawn's cool glow
and caught a redcoat, dead-to-rights.

The others then charged, sabers drawn,
so Jeremiah fled into the near forest.
Hiding and quickly reloading his gun,
the British charged leaving him no rest.

The redcoat horses found themselves slowed
by the thick press of woody brush
that came with broad eastern forests,
a woody nightmare, alarming lush.

Jeremiah took aim and fired again,
knocking their commander from his mount.
The man pitched off and slammed down,
dead before he even the ground.

The four others leapt from their steads,
and charged towards Jeremiah on foot.
He fled back into the deeper forest,
where it was hard to even get a look.

He waited behind a corpse of birch,
drawing his father's old pistol.
A redcoat drew near, not seeing him,
so he put a ball through the man's skull.

The others heard, but saw just smoke,
charging blindly to their comrade.
Jeremiah slipped left, behind a bolder,
quickly reloading under a crag.

The redcoats saw their newest slain,
and turned with muskets wide.
They scanned the forest anxiously,
then a shot came from the side!

Another jerked and then slumped low,
and a bellowing roar went up.
Jeremiah charged with tomahawk,
and a panicked fire did erupt!

But muskets are not accurate guns,
and in the chaos both shots went wide.
Jeremiah threw his tomahawk,
And it cleaved a redcoat's thigh.

The man collapsed, moaning loud
The other turned and ran away.
Jeremiah clomped up the injured one,
and he had this to say:

"Surrender now, and I promise you
no further harm is going to come.
But press your luck and this here leg
will kill you quickly as any gun! "

He raised his iron leg just then,
to drive his point on home.
The wounded redcoat raised his hands,
said, "I've had enough. I'm done."

It was several weeks later
when Colonel Wright returned.
His troops still mostly unblooded,
no glory in combat earned.

When he heard the tale of Jeremiah,
of his crazy, desperate fight,
he nodded firmly and said to all,
"It seems I was not right.

"It seems that I didn't understand,
Just what this young man could do.
I thought him brave but still a cripple,
I suppose I made myself a fool."

He enlisted Jeremiah that same night,
It was the talk of the whole town.
And two years later they both watched
beaten redcoats yield at Yorktown.

Few remember this tale now,
houses now stand in the field.
But to this day a peg-legged man
stands proudly on the town seal.