DEATH OF WELLINGTON.*

On the 14th of September, near to the town of Dea,
As you may well remember, who have a heart to feel,
Died Wellington, a general bold, of glorious renown,
Who beat the great Napoleon, near unto Brussels town.

Chorus.
So don’t forget brave Wellington, who won at Waterloo,
He beat the great Napoleon, and all his generals, too.

He led the British Army on through Portugal and Spain,
And every battle there he won, the Frenchman to restrain,
He ever was victorious in every battle field,
He gained a fame most glorious because he’d never yield.

He drove Napoleon from home, in exile for to dwell,
Far o’er the sea, and from his home, and all he lov’d so well,
He stripped him quite of all his power, and banish’d him away,
To St. Helena’s rocks and towers, the rest of his life to stay.

Then on the throne of France he placed Louis, the King, by right,
In after years he was displaced all by the people’s might;
But should the young Napoleon threaten our land and laws,
We’ll find another Wellington should ever we have cause.

He’s dead, our hero’s gone to rest, and o’er his corpse we’ll mourn,
With sadness and with grief oppress’d, for he will not return,
But we his deeds will not forget, and should we, e’er again,
Follow th’ example that he set, his glory we’ll not stain.

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