Waterloo

At Vaterloo dar ban a scrap      Gude many year ago.     Napolyun, he ban brave old chap      And boss of whole French show.     And Maester Vellington, he say,      "Ay skol mak gude defence,     And make dis Bonypart and Ney      To look lak saxty cents."     Dey start to fight on Sunday morn;      And preacher say to Nap:     "Now, yust so sure sum yu ban born,      Yu're going to fall in trap.     Ef yu got any vork to du,      Yust chuse some oder day."     But Nap say, "To the voods vith yu!      Mak dis bar bugle play!"     Ven Maester Vellington vake op,      He see a gude big hill,     Vith plenty soldier men on top, -      Ay bet he got gude chill.     "Yerusalem!" he tal his men,      "Dese French ban purty t'ick.     Ay tenk by qvarter after ten      Dey skol feel gude and sick."     Den Yen'ral Blucher com along,      And loading op his gun;     And dis mak tengs look purty strong      For Maester Vellington.     Two heads ban more sum von, yu see;      And Vellington, he say,     "Yust keep yure Yerman gang vith me,      And ve skol vinning day."     Den all his English soldiers scrap      Vith guns so big sum trees;     And Yermans fight vith lager tap      And planty Brickstein cheese.     And so, betveen the two, dey chase      Dese Frenchmen to tall pines;     And old Napolyun hide his face,      And yumping back to mines.     Napolyun, he feels purty bum;      And after vile he say,     "Ef Maester Grouchy only com,      Ve could have von to-day."     But Grouchy ban asleep at svitch,      So vat could Frenchman du?     Dis har ban all the history vich      Ay know 'bout Vaterloo.