> Folk Music > Songs > The Eighteenth Day of June

The Eighteenth Day of June / Plains of Waterloo / Napoleon’s Defeat

[ Roud 30109 ; Henry H608 ; Ballad Index HHH608 ; DT PLNWLOO6 ; Mudcat 1263 , 82243 ; trad.]

Karl Dallas: The Cruel Wars Gale Huntington, Lani Herrmann, John Moulden: Sam Henry’s Songs of the People Frank Kidson: Traditional Tunes Roy Palmer: Songs of the Midlands

Frank Kidson printed The Plains of Waterloo in his 1891 book Traditional Tunes (p.121). He noted:

A Horbury correspondent sends me the second setting of the Plains of Waterloo, as learned by his grandfather and himself from Waterloo men; he informing me that it was the tune preferred and mostly sung by the Waterloo heroes. The music is set to the third verse.

Peter Wood sang a much shortened version of Plains of Waterloo in 2001 on his Keel album John o’ Greenfield.

The Wilson Family recorded this song as The 18^th Day of June in Workington on 12  February 1992 for the Fellside anthology of English traditional songs, Voices. They also sang it in a 1996 live recording on their 1997 Pure album Stocking Tops. Paul Adams noted on the first album:

A pre EEC song from the days when British and French Armies set about each other all over Europe. Interestingly the British tradition has more songs in it about Napoleon than it does about its own heroes. However, this song is typical of the genre with its triumphant melody and patriotic lyrics. It is sung equally lustily by The Wilson Family from the North East of England. Everyone can be sure of a good sing when The Wilsons are around! Their version of the song comes from Pete Woods, fine singer and long standing friend of theirs from Tyneside.

This video shows the Wilson Family at Shrewsbury Folk Festival 2012:

Dave Webber and Anni Fentiman sang Plains of Waterloo in 1996 on their Dragon album Bonnet & Shawl. They noted:

None are more keen to shout about their victories than the British, this dates from the Napoleonic wars and depicts the defeat of the French, without any trace of subtlety. Our good friend and very fine singer, Peter Wood, found this song in the Frank Kidson collection. There are many verses to the song but this is the selection chosen by Peter with his arrangement of the chorus. Peter has recorded this song himself on his solo album, John o’ Greenfield.

Frank Harte sang this song as Napoleon’s Defeat on the 2003 CD Irish Songs From Old New England. Dan Milner noted:

In this classic example of folk adaption, Northeast lumbermen purposefully whittled down a jingoistic 18-verse British military piece, transforming it into an Irish-American ballad. None of the basic facts are lost but gone are references to a host of European nobles including the Prince of Brunswick, the Duke of Wellington and the Marquis of Anglesey. Sir William Ponceby remains only because he led the famed Enniskillen Dragoons at the Battle of Waterloo. Likewise missing is a reference to “French dogs” found in the original broadside. French-Canadian loggers were plentiful in New England’s forests and denigrating words were neither sociable nor prudent.

An architect by profession and the dean of Dublin singers, the great Frank Harte made a few alterations himself when he recorded this ballad originally sung by Hanford Hayes of Stacyville, Maine. Mr Hayes was a woodsman, a foreman of the log drive on the East Beach of the Penobscot River in Maine. At the time Mrs Flanders met him, he was elderly but still a great ballad singer. He lived alone, made axe handles and trapped bears for bounty.

Jon Boden sang The Eighteenth Day of June as the, well, eighteenth day of June 2011 entry of his project A Folk Song a Day.

Owen Ralph sang The Eighteenth Day of June to commemorate the 200^th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo on 18 June 2015:

See also the same-titled but different songs Plains of Waterloo (Roud 960; Laws N32) and Poor Boney (The Eighteenth of June) (Roud 2539).

Lyrics

The Plains of Waterloo in Frank Kidson’s Traditional Tunes

The ancient sons of glory were all great men they say,
And we, in future story, will be as great as they;
Our noble fathers’ valiant sons shall conquer every foe,
And long shall fame their names proclaim, who fought at Waterloo.

At ten o’clock on Sunday, the bloody fight began,
In raged from that moment to the setting of the sun;
My pen, I’m sure, can’t half relate the glories of that day
We fought the French at Waterloo, and made them run away.

On the eighteenth of June, eighteen-hundred-and-fifteen,
Both horse and foot they did advance, most glorious to be seen.
Both horse and foot they did advance, and the bugle horn did blow,
The sons of France we made them dance, on the plains of Waterloo.

Our cavalry advanced with true and valiant hearts,
Our infantry and artillery did nobly play their parts;
While the small arms did rattle and great guns did roar,
And many a valiant soldier lay bleeding in his gore.

The French dogs made a bold attack in front of Mount St Jean,
Two of their best battalions thought the village to gain;
Our infantry first charged them and made them face about,
Sir William with his heavy brigade soon put them to the rout

As for Sir William Ponsonby, I’m sorry for to say,
Leading the Enniskillen dragoons, he met his fate that day;
In front of his brigade he fell, which grieves me very sore,
I saw him lie as I passed by, with many thousands more.

The cuirassiers so nobly fought, armed in coats of steel,
And boldly they did advance, thinking to make us yield;
But our dragoons with sword in hand soon cut their armour through.
And showed that day at Waterloo, what Britons they could do.

Napoleon, like a fighting cock, far mounted on a car,
He much did wish to represent great Mars the god of war;
On a high platform he did stand and loudly he did crow,
He dropt his wings and turned his tail to us at Waterloo.

The fertile field of Brabant shall long recorded be,
Where Britons fought for honour and Belgic liberty,
The Sovereign of the Netherlands, he very well does know,
For honour and his country, we fought at Waterloo.

The Prince of Orange the hussars and right wing did command,
And sure a Prince more valiant ne’er took a sword in hand;
His Highness wounded was that day, charging the haughty foe,
And long shall fame their name proclaim, who fought at Waterloo.

The valiant Duke of Brunswick fell in the field that day,
And many a valiant officer dropt in the awful fray,
And many British soldiers lay bleeding in their gore.
On the plains of Waterloo, where thundering cannons roar.

Lord Wellington commanded us all on that glorious day,
Where many a brave soldier in death’s cold arms did lay;
Where many arms did rattle, and cannons loud did roar,
At Waterloo, where Frenchmen their fate did deplore.

As for General Paget, Marquis of Anglesea,
The commander of the brigade of British cavalry,
His honour most conspicuous shone wherever he did go,
A limb he lost in a gallant charge that day at Waterloo.

Brave General Hill, so much renowned, commanded the left wing,
And with his British hearts of oak, destruction did bring;
Brave Picton of heroic fame his squadron on he drew,
Where sublime his deeds do shine in fame at Waterloo.

Now, tender husbands here have left their wives to mourn,
And children, weeping, cry, “When will our dads return?”
Our country will dry up their tears, we feel rejoiced to know,
They will reward each soldier that fought at Waterloo.

When Buonaparte he did perceive the victory we had won,
He did lament in bitter tears, saying, “Oh ! my darling son,
I will set off to Paris straight, and have him crowned also,
Before they hear of my defeat on the plains of Waterloo.”

So unto George our gracious King, my voice I mean to raise,
And to all gallant commanders 1 wish to sing their praise;
The Duke of York and family, and Wellington also,
And the soldiers brave that fought that day on the plains of Waterloo.

So let us give our praise to God, who did the victory give,
And may we all remember Him as long as we do live;
To God above give all the praise, and we’ll remember, too,
That He gave to us the victory on the plains of Waterloo.

The Wilson Family sing The Eighteenth Day of June

On the eighteenth day of June, my boys, eighteen hundred and fifteen,
Both horse and foot they did advance; most glorious to be seen,
Both horse and foot they did advance and the bugle-horn did blow
Where the sons of France we made to dance on the plains of Waterloo.

Our cavalry advanced with true and valiant heart
Our infantry and artillery did nobly play their part
While the small arms they did rattle and the great guns they did roar
All on the plains of Waterloo where the thundering cannons roar.

The French dogs made a bold attack in front of Mount Saint John,
Threw on their best battalions for the village for to gain.
Our infantry first charged them and made them face about;
Sir William with his heavy brigade soon put them to the rout.

Napoleon, like a bantam cock, sat mounted on a bar
He much did wish to represent brave Mars the god of war.
On a high platform there he did stand and loudly he did crow,
He drooped his wings and turned his tail to us at Waterloo.

The valiant Duke of Brunswick fell in the field that day,
And many a gallant officer fell in the awful fray.
And many a British soldier lay wounded in their gore,
Upon the plains of Waterloo where the thundering cannons roar.

(repeat first verse)

Frank Harte sings 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.”