Americans are quick to forget (or embarrassed to remenber) that during The War of Independence, whole cities remained loyal to the British Crown. "Murrain" is (literally) a disease of livestock but came to mean a more general malady, as might "pox" these days.
They fled from the murrain that fell on East Ham
By Plymouth and Boston they brought us
And on to this place they called New Amsterdam
To sire we grandsons and daughters.
We’re sons of our forefathers, sons of this land
Good settlers they now try to banish
Not Albion’s enemy with whom they stand –
Their allies, the French and the Spanish.
They pressed us to fight against kith and our kin
But what would have victory bought us?
A cheap independence so pyrrhic and thin
And the blood of those brothers who fought us.
But whether his crown be of gold or of thorn
Or whether his crown be of laurel
As subjects of his in America-born
With country or King we’ve no quarrel.
So damn all the rebels of Washington’s crew
Who sit in that treacherous caucus
They may speak for Boston and Baltimore too
We’re loyal to King George; we’re New Yorkers.