Looking for the name of a song about waterloo.

THE PLAINS OF WATERLOO

Oh Come all you loyal lovers of a high or low degree,
I hope you'll pay attention and listen, now, to me,
It's all about a young man, his story I'll tell to you,
How he fought in Spain and Portugal, and got slain at Waterloo.

Now this young man that I speak about is proper, tall and thin,
He's mild in his behaviour and complete in every limb,
His cheeks were like the roses are red, his eyes a lovely blue,
There's no one here that I would compare with my love at Waterloo.

Now, my love he is a soldier bold, with his knapsack and his gun,
When Ireland fell and traitors arose, his ramble they begun,
To Bonaparte he was faithful and he wore a soldier's blue,
'Tis little he thought it would be his lot, to be slain at Waterloo.

And when Boney's star was in the sky, my love he went away,
He told me that he loved me true, He'd marry me some day,
He stood up straight and his sword shone bright, with those timeless words so true,
But now he lies with sightless eyes on he plains of Waterloo.

And when Badajoz was taken and or leaders all were damned,
The fields around with carnage lay, to show how much we planned,
But we arose and we marched on to fight the fight anew,
And now we are a marching o'er fields of dead on the plains of Waterloo.

And it's many's the river I have crossed, 'though ankle deep in mud,
And it's many's the battle I have fought, 'though ankle deep in blood,
'Though hearth and home are calling me, I've left them all for you,
To see you fight for our land again on the plains of Waterloo.

And if I don't get my own true love, no man on earth I'll take,
O'er lonely roads and through shady groves, I'll wander for his sake,
O'er lonely roads and through shady groves, o'er hills and valleys too,
I'll wander for my own true love who died at Waterloo.