Sawney and Donnel's exploits at Waterloo

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hey march'd afff thegither, without e'er,
a ſwither ;
Their braid ſwords, their guns, an' their
bonnets ſae blue :
They a' were fu' merry while croſſin the ferry,
An' met Bonaparte juſt at Waterloo.
Then Bona advanc'd wi' his troops in a furry,
An' yocket our birkies wi' four to their ane ;
Tak' time man, quoth Donnel, what d—l's
a' your hurry,
Ye'll ſoon get your fill o't, an' that ye ſhall fin.
He met ſic reſiſtance, he took to a diſtance,
A gun-ſhot an' mair out the gate o' nainſell ;
For f —h he had min' o' the fields o' Corunna,
An' Egypt, where a' his Invincibles fell.

Yet thouſan's on thouſan's he ſent to the battle,
Artillery, cavalry, marksmen an' a';
Their drums an' their cannons did awfully rattle
When Sawney came up wi' his Greys in a raw:
Their braid ſwords a' glancin', their horſes
were prancin',
Sae warlike their form, an' ſae rapid their pace,
The yird it was ſhakin, the French were
a' quakin',
While Bona cried out, O theſe terrible Greys !

His bold cuiraſſiers they drove to diſtraction,
Thro' columns of infantry cut up their way,
When firm, in the red reekin' guſh o' the action,
A favourite Eagle was ta'en by a Grey.