Andrew Jackson, Savior of New Orleans
As God called Gideon from winepress floor
To war against the Midianites, so He
Called Jackson–lawyer, judge–from courthouse doors
To lead his rag-tag men to victory.
Not sword nor bullet stopped Old Hickory,
Not dysentery or a barefoot walk
For forty miles, not orders from D.C.
To have his troops disperse, nor to corral a throng
Of rich and poor, and blacks and whites, along
With Indians and pirates in New Orleans.
He set a battle plan with separate prongs,
Drilled them, prepared, for he was born for storms.
A leader, resolute, with strategy
Can meet and overwhelm a mighty foe:
He placed his sharpshooters to hide yet see
The British soldiers at the morning glow
Men fired from ramparts at the British red,
Bright targets in the rising fog who fell
Like stalks of sugarcane in rain and spread
Across the battlefield while Jackson yelled
Encouragement to men to overcome
The enemy, who finally retreated,
For the King of England’s fighting force,
Strong, well-equipped, had to admit defeat.
With strategy, Old Hickory had won.
The Savior of New Orleans, kind and fierce,
Told his admirers that “we shall become
The strongest nation in the universe.”