Claymore's Cry at Salamanca

[Verse 1] July’s furnace baked the plain, lads—Frenchies preened in line, Marmont’s flank hung loose like bait, an’ Welly bared his spine. “See yon ridge?” our sergeant growled, “We’ll grease it with their blood! Forty-Second, fix yer bay’nets—today we dine on mud!” [Pre-Chorus] Pipes skirled, “Advance, ye heather-men!” Drums answered, “Tread the viper’s den!” No quarter when the Lion wakes— [Chorus] Salamanca’s sun burns bright! Crash through the lines, let steel decide! Wellington’s fist, we’re the blow that struck— Break ‘em hard, lads, damn their luck! From Tormes’ banks to Villar’s crown, The Black Watch carved the Froggies down! [Verse 2] French voltigeurs cracked jesters’ jokes—’til our charge tore their grin, Claymores flashed like lightning forks, “Scotland forever!” roared the din. Their “Invincibles” turned tail, threw shakos in the rout, We laughed, crammed cartridges, and lit their pride to spout! [Bridge] A grenadier cried, “Sauve qui peut!” (his king would’ve pissed his lace), While Welly tipped his hat, cool as a duelist’s grace: “Fine work, my kilted devils—now let’s loot ‘em boots and wine!” We toasted Death in Spanish gold, ‘neath stars as sharp as pine. [Outro] So here’s to the lass who darns my socks, an’ the devil we sent to hell! When they sing of Salamanca, boys, by God, they’ll sing it well: “Forty-Second, tartan tide—you broke Boney’s pride that day! The Eagle’s wings still bear the scars where the Highland cat’s claws play!”