Or the giddy festival, 

 Was the grim and ghastly view, 

 E're evening closed on Waterloo. 

 See the Highland Warrior rushing 

 Firm in danger on the foe, 

 Till the life blood warmly gushing 

 Lays the plaided hero low. 

 His native, pipe's accustomed sound, 

 Mid war's infernal concert drowned, 

 Cannot soothe his last adieu, 

 Or wake his sleep on Waterloo. 

 Charging on, the Cuirassier, 

 See the foaming charger flying 

 Trampling in his wild career, 

 On all alike the dead and dying, 

 See the bullet through his side, 

 Answered by the spouting tide, 

 Helmet, horse and rider too, 

 Roll on bloody Waterloo. 

 Shall scenes like these, the dance inspire; 

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