Song
When Napoleon was flying
From the field of Waterloo
A British soldier dying
To his brother bade adieu!
‘And take,’ he said, ‘this token
To the maid that owns my faith,
With the words that I have spoken
In affection's latest breath.’
Sore mourned the brother's heart
When the youth beside him fell;
But the trumpet warned to part,
And they took a sad farewell.
There was many a friend to lose him,
For that gallant soldier sighed;
But the maiden of his bosom
Wept when all their tears were dried.
From the field of Waterloo
A British soldier dying
To his brother bade adieu!
‘And take,’ he said, ‘this token
To the maid that owns my faith,
With the words that I have spoken
In affection's latest breath.’
Sore mourned the brother's heart
When the youth beside him fell;
But the trumpet warned to part,
And they took a sad farewell.
There was many a friend to lose him,
For that gallant soldier sighed;
But the maiden of his bosom
Wept when all their tears were dried.
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