My Boston massacre poem

The Boston massacre was a street fight,
Happened when the revolutionary war was just in sight.
Patriots stood there, skin and bone
Stood there, throwing stones.

At a red coat,
Threatening his throat,
He called for help,
With a yelp

The Americans kept pelting,
As anger was smelting.
When the British came out
Something was to happen, no doubt

They opened fire! Right into the crowd
They made sure to make their general proud.
The Americans were mad!
But technically it wasn’t as bad

As they said, since only,
Five dead, six wounded solely.
In the minds of rebels, act of terror
In the minds of the British, a minor error.