by | Apr 3, 2010 | Poetry | 0 comments

High in cloudy skies, hangs the sun blood red
Casting shadows dark, on the field of dead
Against the British squares, crash French old guard
But in the distance ride the Prussians hard.

Again and again, held Wellington’s squares
Such men of valour fighting in pairs
Smoke of the rifles made it hard to breath
Many good soldiers would never leave.

The scream of the horses and dying cries
Why had they believed the many lies
That to die a hero is very fine
Not told, you are dead for such a long time.

Charge after charge the brave French troops did make
Napoleon knew, no more could they take
English were victors in battle of gore
And yet so many died: Brave men galore.


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