3
Our brave lads there they suffer'd sair,
For want o' meat and claise, man.
Next owre to France they had to dance,
King Louis for to save, man;
An' mony a man back never cam,
But in it fand his grave, man.
Our bonnets blue, at Waterloo,
They suffer't warst ava' man;
The filthy loons o' French dragoons
They nearhand kill'd them a' man.
She form'd her there, in hollow square,
Her nainsel’ to defend, man;
And there she stood 'mang brither's blood,
Until her life did end, man.
Up cam the Greys wi' trotting pace,
Ahint the Frenchman's back, man:
Wi' bluid an' woun's they knapt their crowns,
An' kill'd them in a crack, man.
Our bare-hought boys then cheer'd for joy,
While on their knees they hurkle'd;
And loud did praise the Scottish Greys
Wha had their enemies conquer'd;
For, warna them they'd a' been slain,
As sure's they were alive, man;
For ilka man was o' the clan,
The French dogs they had five, man.
Wi' Highland rage they did engage,
