Round here, and filibustering,
Is more than I can tell;
Sat playing for a wager,
And nabbed a British major.
Well, if the plans and charts
From Andre's boots he hauled out,
Is his name to be bawled out
Forever, round these parts?

"Guess not! His pay and bounty
And mon'ment from the county
Paid him off, every cent,
While this snug town and station,
To every generation,
Shall be Dobbs' monument;
Spite of all speculators
And ancient-landmark traitors,
Who, all along this shore,
Are ever substitutin'
The modern, highfalutin',
For the plain names of yore.

"Down there, on old Manhattan,
Where land-sharks breed and fatten,
They've wiped out Tubby Hook.
That famous promontory,
Renowned in song and story,
Which time nor tempest shook,
Whose name for aye had been good,
Stands newly christened 'Inwood,'