You people that live at home easy,
And free from the riot of war
*
*
Know that long has the scythe of destruction
Been sweeping our nation around;
It never yet cut with such keenness
As on the great eighteenth of June.

From half past five in the morning,
To half past seven at night
The people of the [ ? ]
Never before saw such a sight,
When the thunder of five hundred cannons
Proclaiming the battle was won,
The moon in the night overshone,
As recorded the eighteenth of June.

You lasses whose sweethearts were yonder,
Go gaily and buy a black gown,
A thousand I will lay to a hundred
He fell on the eighteenth of June,
Sixty thousand stout hearted mortals
That fell, made an awful paltune [?]
Many a sad heart will remember
With sorrow the eighteenth of June.

What a sad heart had poor Boney
To take up instead of a crown
A canter for Brussels and Paris
Lamenting the eighteenth of June.

All you people who live at home easy,
And far from the trials of war,
Never knowing the dangers of battle,
But safe with your family secure.
Know you, the long scythe of destruction
Has been sweeping the Nations all round,
But it never yet cut with the keenness
That it did on the eighteenth of June.

All you people who live at home easy
And free from the trials of war
Never knowing the dangers of battle
But safe with your family secure
Know you the long scythe of destruction
Has been sweeping the nation all round
And it never yet cut with the keenness
That it did on the eighteenth of June

Chorus (after each verse):
And what a sad heart had poor Boney
To take up instead of a crown
A canter from Brussels to Paris
Lamenting the eighteenth of June

It had started at five in the morning,
And lasted ‘til seven at night.
All the people stood round in amazement,
For they never had seen such a sight.
‘Til the thunder of five hundred cannons
Proclaimed that the battle was done,
And the moon in the sky over-shone all,
Recording the eighteenth of June.

It was just half past five in the morning
It lasted till seven at night
All the people stood round in amazement
They never had seen such a sight
For the thunder of five hundred cannons
Proclaimed that the battle was won
And the moon and the stars overshone all
Proclaiming the eighteenth of June

And what a sad heart had poor Boney
To take up instead of a crown -
And the canter from Brussels to Paris,
Lamenting the eighteenth of June.

All you young girls with sweethearts out yonder,
Go you gaily and buy the black gown -
Here's ten thousand to one I would lay you
That he fell on the eighteenth of June.
Sixty thousand stout-hearted brave mortals
Who died, sang some terrible funeral tune,
But there’s many’s the more will remember,
With sorrow, the eighteenth of June.

All you widows and sweethearts out yonder
Go gaily and buy a black gown
Ten thousand to one I will lay you
That he fell on the eighteenth of June
Sixty thousand brave hearted strong mortals
Who died, made an awful pall tune
And many's the sad heart will remember
In sorrow the eighteenth of June

So take up your sad heart, faithless Boney,
And you bear that, instead of your crown -
For there’s many's the more will remember,
With sorrow, the eighteenth of June.