It was the date April eighteen, the year seventeen seventy-five,
And so t’was that important day the minutemen woke at night.
In sleep they were disturbed by the cries of William and Paul
Letting the English army’s presence be known that night to all.
The next morning a small group waited, it was April nineteen,
And the Englishmen were then there to fight and be seen.
They reached the town of Lexington, and the farmers waited
As the sun rose the moon went down, and so slowly faded.
Men were killed that morning, and shots were fired furiously
It was a bloody night to remember, to think, look back and see.
Then the English marched on to Concord, and waiting there were men,
But the soldiers fought that battle, and blood was spilled again.
Then the army was lead back, and they marched on to Boston
It was there the colonists were hiding, and the English were fired upon.
Pitcairn then with sword in hand rode forward and looked around
Captain Parker and the men stood by, the English were now about.
The two were crying “Hold your fire!” to the men, hands upon a gun,
A shot was fired so piercingly loud – the shot of the American Revolution.
The battle was fought, the farmers, soldiers and other men
They all fought hard in that battle as blood had been spilled once again.
Their dead laid upon the ground, and so many wounded and tired,
Yet still that shot heard round the world, no one knows who fired.