It was a summer evening, Old Kaspar's work was done,And he before his cottage door Was sitting in the sun,And by him sported on the greenHis little grandchild Wilhelmine,She saw her brother Peterkin Roll something large and round,Which he beside the rivulet In playing there 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 here about,And often when I go to plough, The ploughshare turns them out;For many thousand men, said heWere slain in the great victory.Now tell us what t'was all about, Young Peterkin, he cries,And little Wilhelmine looks up With wonder-waiting eyes;Now tell us all about the war,And what they kill'd each other for.It was the English, Kaspar cried, That put the French to rout;But what they kill'd each other for, I couldn't well make out;But every body said, quoth he,That t'was a famous victory.My father lived at Blenheim then, Yon little stream hard by;They burnt his dwelling to he ground And he was forced to fly;So with his wife and child he fled,Nor had he where to rest his head.With fire and sward the country round Was wasted far and wide,And many a childing mother then, And new-born baby died.But things like that, you know, must beAt every famous victory.They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won,For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun;But things like that, you know, must beAfter a famous victory.Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' 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 every body praised the Duke Who 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.