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Dirty British Soldier
Where did he steal that fowl he has a-roasting on his fire
He looks a dirty scoundrel, a godless thug, a liar
I’ve heard that they’re all rapists every woman’s dread
When they’ve finished with ‘em they leave their victims dead
I’ve heard that they eat babies and broil them on a spit
‘Tis known in other the villages and that’s the truth of it
Thus whispered fearful peasants behind the soldiers pack
Should he leave them to the enemy they’d damn soon want him back
Hold your peace cried the village priest at his Sunday sermon
He’s come to fight the tyrant with the Dutchman and the German
They pay in gold for the food they take not plunder us like the French
And he'd hang from the gallows tree should he rape any wench
He slept out in the fields last night exposed to pouring rain
This morn he has no breakfast so he'll curse and he'll complain
Yet when they get to fighting there’s none better, braver, bolder
Be he uncouth and foul of mouth God bless the British soldier
Be grateful that he’s here good folk, upon on your knees and pray
For all will need god’s mercy on this June’s eighteenth day
He’s fighting for our freedom for the sake of me and you
And many of them will die for us near our village Waterloo
Written to commemorate the 200th anniversary of battle of Waterloo fought on Sunday 18th June 1815 the final defeat of the French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte.
He looks a dirty scoundrel, a godless thug, a liar
I’ve heard that they’re all rapists every woman’s dread
When they’ve finished with ‘em they leave their victims dead
I’ve heard that they eat babies and broil them on a spit
‘Tis known in other the villages and that’s the truth of it
Thus whispered fearful peasants behind the soldiers pack
Should he leave them to the enemy they’d damn soon want him back
Hold your peace cried the village priest at his Sunday sermon
He’s come to fight the tyrant with the Dutchman and the German
They pay in gold for the food they take not plunder us like the French
And he'd hang from the gallows tree should he rape any wench
He slept out in the fields last night exposed to pouring rain
This morn he has no breakfast so he'll curse and he'll complain
Yet when they get to fighting there’s none better, braver, bolder
Be he uncouth and foul of mouth God bless the British soldier
Be grateful that he’s here good folk, upon on your knees and pray
For all will need god’s mercy on this June’s eighteenth day
He’s fighting for our freedom for the sake of me and you
And many of them will die for us near our village Waterloo
Written to commemorate the 200th anniversary of battle of Waterloo fought on Sunday 18th June 1815 the final defeat of the French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte.
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