Page:Four songs (2).pdf/8

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Ye Lassies, who's Laddies are yonder,

Gae ilk ane, and buy a new gown;

A thousand it is to a hunder,

They’ve fallen on the 18th of June.

Ye fops, and ye fine gaudy mortals

Whose life's like the mist of the morn,

An hour in this terrible conflict

Would told you what for you was born.

The groans of the dying and wounded.

Would sent through your bosoms a stoon!

You would learn’d to have danc’d a new figure,

At the Ball on the 18th of June.

From half after ten in the morning,

Till half after seven at night,

Thy meadows, La Belle Alliance,

Did ne'er before see such a sight!

Till the thunder of twice fifty cannons

Proclaim'd we the battle had won;

While the moon, in the night, as she view’d it,

Recorded the 18th of June

But now, to cut short a long story,

Here's joy to oor heros at large;

May Britain lang keep up her glory.

And Donald lang ken how to charge.

And may her bold sons still defend her,

From the paws of a foreigner loon ;

And may he who dares to offend her,

Get fun like the 18th of June.