The Black-bird/Lament for General Wolfe
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Lament for General Wolfe
Britons, loyal, stout and bold, Who could never be controll’dBy the French—See the bravest of his sex, British Wolfe, stout and good, Made the rivers run with blood, At the glorious conquest of Quebec.
Brave Wolfe was our commander, Montcalm was their defender,Their numbers did us sorely dismay But brave Wolfe, stout and bold, He would never be controll'd,And his last dying words was—Huzza!
Contented now I die, Since we've gain'd the victory,As you tell me the battle is our own; Let my soul depart in peace, And the wars for ever cease,Since my life for fair Britain is gone
The Highlanders, in hot blood, And Sailors, stout and rude,Like madmen did clash them away! When the French began to run, We advanced on their ground,But our grief was for Wolfe—Oh that day!
Then the City it surrender'd, The gates straight we enter'd,Our Ships ln the harbour lay thick. We thanked the Most High For this signal victoryAt the glorious conquest of Quebec.