Upon the slope of Old Mt. Hope on Bristol’s eastern bay,
In a place called Sowams, Pokanokets spent summer days.
Here was a sachem, sage he was — a leader of great fame,
Though the English called him Philip, Metacomet was his name.
Ensconced on his throne carved out of stone, Metacomet looked about,
He calmly spoke to his assembled folk with not a hint of doubt:
“My friends draw near, I have a fear of danger fast approaching;
The Englishmen shall return again upon our land encroaching.
Prepare, my friends, we must defend our home upon this hill,
Or the Anglo men will attack and then more of us will they kill!”
Now across the way on the western bay, the colonists plied their wares,
Sold and traded in Bristol town on cobbled thoroughfares.
They wanted this and needed that, coveted more and more,
And started moving eastward toward the Pokanoket’s wooded shore.
The English hunted the Sachem near Mt. Hope conducted a search;
The leader of this group was the soldier Benjamin Church.
From Tiverton town he snuck around and across the Mt. Hope Bay,
Determined to kill for good or ill, determined to have his way.
‘Twas a sorry, sullen, soggy day when the two leaders chanced to meet;
Near a swollen, swampy, muddy stream where there could be no retreat.
Two men stood staring each at each — a Pocasset man and Philip the Great,
Church's man, musket in hand, fired and Metacomet met his fate.
There was a Sachem, brave he was — a leader of great fame,
Though the English called him Philip, Metacomet was his name.

-Jim Manchester