Napoleon's Defeat

You ancient sons of glory are all great men, they say,
Whilst we in future story may join as well as they.
Our noble fathers' ancient sons have conquered many's the foe.
As long as fame their names proclaim who fought on Waterloo.

It was on June the eighteenth day, eighteen hundred and fifteen.
With horse and foot we did advance most glorious to be seen.
With horse and foot we did advance while the bugles loud they blew.
We showed the French at Waterloo what Britain's sons could do.

Our cavalry advancing with a bold and a gallant heart,
Our infantry, artillery so nobly played their part,
Our small guns they did rattle, our great guns they did roar,
All on the plains of Waterloo where the murdering cannons roar.

Here is to Sir William Ponceby I am sorry for to say.
In leading his Enniskillen dragoons he met his fate that day.
At the head of his brigade I saw him fall, that grieved my heart full sore.
I saw him lie as we passed by with many thousands more.

Napoleon like a Bantam cock sat a-mounted on his spurs.
And hard he tried to represent grim as the god of war.
On his high platform where he did stand and there so loud he crew,
He drooped his wings and turned his head and fled from Waterloo.

When Napoleon found the battle lost, he cries, “I am undone.”
He wrung his hands and tore his hair, crying, “Oh, my darling son,
Straightway to Paris I will go and king I will crown you
Before they hear of my defeat on the plains of Waterloo.”