|Author||Topic: Add: The Plains of Waterloo|
|dmcg||Posted - 26 Jan 04 - 02:05 pm|
On the sixteenth day of June, my boys, in Flanders, where we lay,
Our bugles sounded the alarm before the break of day;
We Britons, Belgians, Brunswickers, and Hanoverians too,
All Brussels left that morning for the plains of Waterloo.
By a forces march we did advance till three in the afternoon,
Each British heart with ardour beat to pull the tyrant down;
Near Quaire-Bras we met the French, their shape to us seemed newm
For in steel armour they were clad on the plains of Waterloo.
Napolean to his men did say before that they begun,
"My heroes, if we lose the day, our nation is undone;
The Prussinas we've already beat - we'll beat the British too,
And display victorious eagles on the plains of Waterloo."
Source: Kidson, Traditional Tunes, 1891
Kidson collected this song "from a country singer in Dumfrieshire" and follows the last verse with 'etc., etc."
Database entry is here.
||Posted - 26 Jan 04 - 05:43 pm|
Kidson goes on to comment that this is "the copy most frequently met with on broadsides", and that he has instead used the space at his disposal to print "a less known copy".
Copies at Bodleian Library Broadside Ballads appear as
The Battle of Waterloo.
Kidson states "The above version of the ballad is said to be the composition of a Sergeant Grant of the 92nd regiment, who wrote it directly after the battle." Johnson Ballads 2338 (The battle of Waterloo. A new song; see link above) includes the comment "written by two soldiers of the Highland Brigade".
Number 1106 in the Roud Folk Song Index, which also lists other examples found in Scotland, Northern Ireland and Newfoundland.
|Mr Happy||Posted - 29 Jan 04 - 02:56 am|
TRAINS OF WATERLOO
As I was a-walking one midsummers evening,
All among the brick-red of surburbian sprawl,
I met a young maid making sad lamentation,
And it seemed all Basingstoke heard her sad call,
She walks the street lined with small maisonettes(es),
The semi-detatched, the town houses too.
Crying day it is over, executives come home again,
But my Nigel's not returned upon the Trains of Waterloo.
I stepped up to this fair maid and said my fond creature
Oh, May I make so bold as to ask your true loves name
It's I have done battle in the Cannon Street rattle
And by some strange fortune I might have known the same
Nigel Clegg's my true loves name, Merchant Banker of great
He's gone to the wars out on platform two
No-one shall me enjoy but my own darling boy
No Milkman, and the Postman, and the Man from the Pru
If Nigel Clegg's his name a commuter of great fame
Then we fought together the daily campaign
His brave brolly poking invaders at Woking
He was my loyal comrade on the five-thirty train
We fought with our Guardians we fought with our Filofax
Our rolled umbrellas our telegraphs too
We fought every evening all down the platform
And back through the night on the Trains of Waterloo
Dear lady I bring you the saddest of tidings
The five-thirty train it was cancelled you see
And Nigel not looking he went to step onto it
Straight into the path of the five-thirty-three
Your poor Nigel Clegg I have brought you his leg
And so sadly she gazed at the limb she once knew
And fondly she browsed on one half of his trousers
Oh My Nigels not returning on the trains of Waterloo