Done With Bonaparte

we've played in Hell
since Moscow burned
these cossacks tear us
piece by piece
our dead are strewn
a hundred leagues
though death would be
a sweet release
and our Grande Armee
is dressed in rags
a frozen starving
beggar band
like rats we steal
each other's scraps
fall to fighting
hand to hand
save my soul from evil
and heal this soldier's heart
i'll trust in thee to keep me, Lord
i'm done with Bonaparte

what dreams he made for us to dream
Spanish skies, Egyptian sands
the world was ours, we marched upon
our little Corporal's command
i lost an eye at Austerlitz
the sabre slash yet gives me pain
my one true love awaits me still
the flower of the Aquitaine
save my soul from evil
and heal this soldier's heart
i'll trust in thee to keep me, Lord
i'm done with Bonaparte

i pray for her who prays for me
a safe return to my belle France
we prayed these wars would end all wars
in war we know is no romance
i pray our child will never see
a little Corporal again
point toward a foreign shore
and captivate the hearts of men
save my soul from evil
and heal this soldier's heart
i'll trust in thee to keep me, Lord
i'm done with Bonaparte