Classic Poem

Down by a chrystal river side,
I fell a weeping;
To see my brother soldier dear,
Upon the ground lie bleeding.

It was from the Castle of Vino,
We marched on Easter Sunday;
And the battle of Almanza,
Was fought on Easter Monday.

Full twenty miles we marched that day,
Without one drop of water;
Till we poor souls were almost spent,
Before the bloody slaughter.

Over the plain we marched along,
All in the line of battle;
To the beat of drums and colours flying,
And thundering cannons' rattle.

Brave Gallaway, our General,
Cry'd, ‘Fight on! while you may;
Fight on! brave-hearted Englishmen,
You're one to five this day.

‘Hold back! nor make the first attack,
'Tis what they do desire:
But when you see my sword I draw,
Let each platoon give fire.’

We had not marched some paces three,
Before the small shot flew like thunder;
Hoping that we should get the day,
And likewise all the plunder.

But the Dutch fell on with sword in hand,
And that was their desire;
Thirty-five squadrons of Portuguese,
They ran and ne'er gave fire.

The Duke of Berwick, as I have been told,
He gave it out in orders,
That if the army should be broke,
To give the English quarters.

‘Be kind unto my countrymen,
For that is my desire;
With the Portuguese do as you please,
For they will soon retire.’

Now to conclude and make an end
Of this my dismal story,
One hundred thousand fighting men
Have died for England's glory.

Let no brave soldier be dismayed
For losing of a battle;
We have more forces coming on
Will make Jack Frenchman rattle.