The Battle of Blenheim

It was a summer’s evening,Old Kaspar’s work was done,And he before his cottage doorWas sitting in the sun;And by him sported on the greenHis little grandchild Wilhelmine.

She saw her brother PeterkinRoll something large and round,Which he, beside the rivulet,In playing there, had found.He came to ask what he had found,That was so large, and smooth, and round.

Old Kaspar took it from the boy,Who stood expectant by;And then the old man shook his head,And, with a natural sigh,“’Tis some poor fellow’s skull,” said he,“Who fell in the great victory!

“I find them in the garden,For there’s many hereabout;And often when I go to plow,The plowshare turns them out;For many thousand men,” said he,“Were slain in that great victory!”

“Now tell us what ’twas all about,”Young Peterkin he cries;And little Wilhelmine looks upWith wonder-waiting eyes;“Now tell us all about the war,And what they killed each other for.”

“It was the English,” Kaspar cried,“Who put the French to rout;But what they killed each other forI could not well make out.But everybody said,” quoth he,“That ’twas a famous victory!

“My father lived at Blenheim then,Yon little stream hard by:They burned his dwelling to the groundAnd he was forced to fly;So with his wife and child he fled,Nor had he where to rest his head.

“With fire and sword the country roundWas wasted far and wide;And many a childing mother thenAnd new-born baby died.But things like that, you know, must beAt every famous victory.

“They say it was a shocking sightAfter the field was won;For many thousand bodies hereLay rotting in the sun.But things like that, you know, must beAfter a famous victory.

“Great praise the Duke of Marlborough won,And our good Prince Eugene.”“Why, ’twas a very wicked thing!”Said little Wilhelmine.“Nay, nay, my little girl,” quoth he,“It was a famous victory!

“And everybody praised the DukeWho this great fight did win.”“But what good came of it at last?”Quoth little Peterkin.“Why, that I cannot tell,” said he,“But ’twas a famous victory.”