Paul Revere: A skilled silversmith and stout patriot who, if he lived today, maybe would’ve built and flown  his own spaceship. Then again, maybe not. It’s difficult to say.

Most of us are familiar with the story of the Midnight Ride of Paul Revere. The skilled silversmith and stout patriot galloped through the Massachusetts countryside to warn the citizens and alert the Minutemen of the impending British Invasion – not the Beatles 1964 invasion but the British Redcoats 1775 invasion. His Majesty’s Troops’ mission was to march to Lexington and Concord, secure the armory and powder houses, thereby disarming the revolutionaries.

It was little noted nor long remembered, but 1 week later he made another less mythologized ride. Almost lost to posterity but recently discovered in a blood-deprived area of my brain is the story of this other midnight ride of Paul Revere.

I’m pleased to present verbatim a brief discussion between Paul Revere and his wife Prudence Revere pertaining to the events of that other midnight ride on April 25^th 1775. 

Paul:          Pru, I think I’m gonna gallop over to Lexington for some milk. 

Prudence: What? Are you crazy it’s almost midnight. 

Paul:          Well you know how cranky our 15 children get if they don’t have their milk in the morning. 

Prudence: Oh, I see what’s going on here. You’re not going to Lexington at all are you ? You’re going over to Bunker Hill to see that Molly Pitcher woman. 

Paul:          Wha? No baby it’s you. It’s always been you. 

Prudence: Baby? You never call me baby. Is that what you call that little hussy of yours? 

Paul:          Pru, c’mon. What do you want me to call you “my sincerely appreciated helpmate.” I won’t be long. I’m just getting milk. It’s for the children. 

Prudence: Last week you went on another midnight ride with some flimsy excuse about there being 2 lanterns in the North Church steeple. What was that? Some kind of code? And then you came back at 6 in the morning all tired and spent…and with no milk.

Paul:          That was different Pru, I had to warn the people that the British were coming. 

Prudence: The British are coming? What are you talking about? We’re all British. Me thinks the British weren’t the only ones coming that night. And with that floozie Molly Pitcher. Shame. Shame. 

Paul:          Floozie? Who uses the term floozie? Where did you learn that? – From Reverend Dimmesdale? You see him a lot.

Prudence: I seek only spiritual guidance from Reverend Dimmesdale. Alright then, let me rephrase that – the wench Molly Pitcher. Point is I’m here with 15 kids and you’re out gallivanting in the countryside. 

Paul:          Pru, for the last time I’m going to a farm in Lexington to get some milk for tomorrow. It’s the only one open at this hour.

Prudence: And you couldn’t think of that at 7 o’clock? Whose farm is it anyway? 

Paul:          It’s old Mac Donald’s

Prudence: I heard he sold the place. Old Mac Donald had a farm. He’s in O-hi-o. 

Paul:          Did I say old Macdonald? I meant Pepperidge Farm. Yeah. They’ve got a new trot-thru window. 

Prudence: I know. I’m sorry Paul. I’m just antsy. I think I’ve got a bee in my bonnet what with the Puritan Festival coming up. How could I ever suspect you? You know I revere you Paul. 

With his wife’s suspicions allayed, he galloped off to Bunker Hill to see Molly Pitcher. And later that night his cries could be heard throughout the country side, “Paul Revere is coming! Paul Revere is coming!”

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