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Wars > Napoleonic Wars (1803-1815)

Glorious news, Wellington in France and Bonaparte out of Germany

(47) Glorious news, Wellington in France and Bonaparte out of Germany


Wellington in France and Bonaparte
               out of Germany ! !

            Tune—" Mrs. Casey."

WHAT famous times are coming on,
For Bonaparte's deſcending ;
The tyrant's power is almoſt gone,
His influence is ending ;
Mhe German powers are all combin'd,
To curb his vain pretenees,
They ll thraſh him ſoundly till they find,
They've brought him to his ſenſes,
So fill your glaſſes to the brim'
And laugh at Nap's preſumption,
Theſe victories have given him,
A galloping conſumption.
Such vaulting notions he poſſeſſ'd
His pride ſurpaſs'd all bound ſir,
His neighbours muſt not be at reſt,
He pillag'd them all round ſir.
Bold Ruſſia ſaid this ne'er will do,
To him we'll ne'er be clingers,
Boney replied I'll conquer you,
But Moſcow burnt his fingers.
                       So fill your glaſſes &c.
Yet ſtill his cure was not complete
New conſcripts were aſſetnbled,
The Allies gave him freſh deſeat,
With rage and feat he trembled :
'Twas near Leipfics ancient walls,
They harraſs'd him about, ſir,
And though he ſaid he wanted balls,
He'd quite enough of routs, ſir.
                       So fill your glaſſes, &c.
Through Germany he led the way,
And danc'd againſt his will ſir,
Such thundering muſic there did play,
'Twould ne'er let him be ſtill ſir,
The Rhyne he croſſ'd in diſmal plight,
His troops diſperſ'd and ſlain ſir,
And when with them he dares to ſight,
They'll beat him o'er again ſir.
                       So fill your glaſſes, &c.
Brave Wellington's got into France,
By victory ſurrounded,
He made the vaulting Soult to prance,
And all his ſchemes confounded,
Thus Boney's end is drawing near,
His glory's gone to wreck sir,
They've hemm'd him in both front & rear
He trembles for his neck sir,


So drink to thoſe victorious boys,
May fortune ſtill befriend them,
I'll peace ſhall crown their glorious toils
And happineſs attend them.

[NLS note: a graphic appears here - see image of page]



Early laſt ſpring Buonaparte did begin,
On his journey to go his conqueſt to win,
The great Buonaparte got ſtopt on his jaunts.
Which pulls down the pride and ambition of France,
By loſing his honor, men, horſes and guns,
They ſet fire to his tail ſo off Boney runs.
O poor Boney, long-headed Boney,
Short legged Boney we'll ſoon have you now.
October the 16th O begun the fray,
Brave Blucher defeated the proud Marſhal Ney,
He is one of Buonaparte's Marſhals of France,
Indeed on that day they flood a poor chance,
Twelve thouſand of French kill'd wounded and ta'en,
Says Boney the devil's deceived me again.
October the 18th the French fought very ſtout,
But indeed they p t Buonaparte to the rout,
The Allied army ſo gallant puſh'd on,
Forty thouſand more Frenchmen were loſt in the throng
Boney caſts his eyes round, ſavs where muſt I go,
I'm hobbled, I'm hobbled oh what muſt I do.
Yet Boney kept watching the Allies that night,
Not once cloſ'd his eyes he was in ſuch a fright,
By nine in the morning got ready to ſtart,
To make his eſcape did the great Buonaparte
The Frenchmen cries out don't leave us enthral'd
The devil go with you men, horſes and all.
So off Boney went, him and his eſcort,
Says this bangs all the battes that ever I fought,
For the Allied arms did ſo gallant diſpay,
I'll fight no more ſays he it this be the way,
I'll fight no more ſays he I plain do ſee,
It's my life that they want North Germany.
I fret at the fight of the Allies ſaid he,
They lead me ſuch a dance that you never did ſee,
I'll make my eſcape if I poſſibly can,
For againſt the Allies I can no onger ſtand,
But conſider our horſes, our men and our guns,
The devil g With you ſo off Boney runs.
                                         Wood, Printer, Liverpool.

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