The drummer boy at Waterloo, song

Margaret McEleney
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When England raised her warlike dance
The cannons roared and trumpets blew
Young Edmund left his native land
A drummer boy for Waterloo.

Young Edmund was a boy in youth
With his knapsack o’er his shoulders threw
Saying mother dear dry up your tears
Til I return from Waterloo.

His mother clasped him to her breast
Saying my only son I bid you adieu
With wringing hands and broken heart
She saw him start for Waterloo.

He marched away both sad and sore
Unto the fields came into view
A bullet from the enemy flew
And laid him low at Waterloo.

Oh comrades comrades young Edmund cried
While the tears rolled from his eyes so blue
Go tell my mother that I have died
Her drummer boy at Waterloo.

He laid his head down on his drum
His drum was wet with midnight dew
As the night rolled on the morning dawned
They dug his grave at Waterloo.

They dug his grave they dug it deep
They dug it wide and they dug it steep
They marched away as the bands did play
They laid him low at Waterloo.