The Eighteenth of June or Poor Boney

Originale

La versione interpretata da Rod Stradling

THE EIGHTEENTH OF JUNE OR POOR BONEY All you people who live at home easy And free from the trials of war Never knowing the dangers of battle But safe with your family secure Know you the long scythe of destruction Has been sweeping the nation all round And it never yet cut with the keenness That it did on the eighteenth of June And what a sad heart had poor Boney To take up instead of a crown A canter from Brussels to Paris Lamenting the eighteenth of June It was just half past five in the morning It lasted till seven at night All the people stood round in amazement They never had seen such a sight For the thunder of five hundred cannons Proclaimed that the battle was won And the moon and the stars overshone all Proclaiming the eighteenth of June And what a sad heart had poor Boney To take up instead of a crown A canter from Brussels to Paris Lamenting the eighteenth of June All you widows and sweethearts out yonder Go gaily and buy a black gown Ten thousand to one I will lay you That he fell on the eighteenth of June Sixty thousand brave hearted strong mortals Who died, made an awful pall tune And many's the sad heart will remember In sorrow the eighteenth of June And what a sad heart had poor Boney To take up instead of a crown A canter from Brussels to Paris Lamenting the eighteenth of June

THE EIGHTEENTH OF JUNE All you people who live at home easy, And far from the trials of war, Never knowing the dangers of battle, But safe with your family secure. Know you, the long scythe of destruction Has been sweeping the Nations all round, But it never yet cut with the keenness That it did on the eighteenth of June. It had started at five in the morning, And lasted ‘til seven at night. All the people stood round in amazement, For they never had seen such a sight. ‘Til the thunder of five hundred cannons Proclaimed that the battle was done, And the moon in the sky over-shone all, Recording the eighteenth of June. And what a sad heart had poor Boney To take up instead of a crown - And the canter from Brussels to Paris, Lamenting the eighteenth of June. All you young girls with sweethearts out yonder, Go you gaily and buy the black gown - Here's ten thousand to one I would lay you That he fell on the eighteenth of June. Sixty thousand stout-hearted brave mortals Who died, sang some terrible funeral tune, But there’s many’s the more will remember, With sorrow, the eighteenth of June. So take up your sad heart, faithless Boney, And you bear that, instead of your crown - For there’s many's the more will remember, With sorrow, the eighteenth of June.