I don't know how the war would have gone...but we would never have had their gloriously vulgar reply to George Washington Cromwell, once he had set himself up as Lord Protector of America, just before his crushing defeat at New Haven.
From Cromwell:
Lord Protector of America to the Zaporozhian Cossacks: As the Protector; son of Mary and Joseph; brother of the Only Begotten; grandson and viceroy of God; ruler of the kingdoms of Acadia, New England, Vermont, Upper and Lower Quebec; emperor of emperors; sovereign of sovereigns; extraordinary grenadier, never defeated; steadfast guardian of the tomb of Thomas Paine; trustee chosen by God Himself; the hope and comfort of Americans; confounder and great defender of Britons – I command you, the Zaporogian Cossacks, to submit to me voluntarily and without any resistance, and to desist from troubling me with your attacks.
Of course, we have all learned the reply in our grade school history classes, or read out again at the annual commemoration of the anniversary of the American Mutiny...but, really, it is always worth another read, isn't it?
Zaporozhian Cossacks to the American Protector!
O Protector, Yankee devil and damned devil's kith and kin, secretary to Lucifer himself. What the devil kind of soldier are thou, that canst not slay a hedgehog with your naked arse? The devil shits, and your army eats. Thou shalt not, thou son of a whore, make subjects of British sons. We have no fear of your army; by land and by sea we will battle with thee. Fuck thy mother.
Thou Floridian scullion, Pennsylvanian wheelwright, brewer of Jersey, goat-fucker of Alexandria, swineherd of Greater and Lesser Carolina, pig of Armenia, New York thief,
catamite of Delaware, hangman of New Brunswick, and fool of all the world and underworld, an idiot before God, grandson of the Serpent, and the crick in our dick. Pig's snout, mare's arse, slaughterhouse cur, unchristened brow. Screw thine own mother!
So the Zaporozhians declare, you lowlife. You won't even be herding pigs for the Irish. Now we'll conclude, for we don't know the date and don't own a calendar; the moon's in the sky, the year with the Lord. The day's the same over here as it is over there; for this kiss our arse!