 Come all you loyal lovers, I pray you to draw near
To listen to verse or two I mean to let you hear.
In the praises of a worthy youth who's honest, fair and true,
Who fought through Spain and Portugal and fell at Waterloo.
The young man that I sing about is proper tall and trim,
His body like the wax work, there's few could equal him.
His cheeks they were a rosy-red, his eyes the deep, dark blue.
With my charming fair, none could compare on the Plains of Waterloo.
When the fight was at its fiercest they fought with hearts and will,
When guns did loudly rattle and shot and shell did kill.
My love he fell a victim 'mongst the thousands that they slew.
Far from his own to hear him moan on the Plains of Waterloo.
My love he lay the whole night long, my love he lay in pain.
When the war was spread, he raised his head, and daylight came again.
When that his comrades found him 'mongst the thousands that they slew
He discoursed, my love, and hour or more, on the Plains of Waterloo.
"Farewell my comrades, likewise my sweetheart."
These were the very words he said and then he did depart.
They dug my love a silent grave, the tears they were not few.
And they laid him in the cold clay on the Plains of Waterloo.
Although he's gone and left me no other will I take.
Through lonesome woods and shady groves I wander for his sake.
Through lonesome woods and shady groves I'll wander through and through,
And I'll mourn for him that's dead upon the Plains of Waterloo.
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