The drummers and the pipes called their tune,
The morning of Sunday the eighteenth of June,
The year is eighteen fifteen, way back when,
The time is five to ten.
On his horse sat Wellington,
On three sides in squares were all his men,
Beside him stood a young leftenant,
History doesn’t record quite who,
On a battlefield that became known as Waterloo.
Who, spotted Napoleon in his rifle sight,
In, the not quite bright,
Early morning light.
“Sir“….Said the young leftenant,
“If I shoot now, I could pot Napoleon,
If I shot just right……”
To his friend Wellington said, “What’s the time Ned?”
“Five minutes to ten”, said Ned,
“Then, certainly not sir“…..said Wellington,
“The war doesn’t start ‘til ten,
It’s just not the done thing man,
Watch for my mark, I’ll tell you when,
You can’t go around taking pot shots at Generals,
Just because you can……..”