Texty: mark knopfler. Done With Bonaparte.

Weve paid in hell since moscow burned

As cossacks tear us piece by piece

Our dead are strewn a hundred leagues

Though death would be a sweet release

And our grande arme is dressed in rags

A frozen starving beggar band

Like rats we steal each others scraps

Fall to fighting hand to hand

Save my soul from evil, lord

And heal this soldiers heart

Ill trust in thee to keep me, lord

Im done with bonaparte

What dreams he made for us to dream

Spanish skies, egyptian sands

The world was ours, we marched upon

Our little corporals command

And 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, lord

And heal this soldiers heart

Ill trust in thee to keep me, lord

Im 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

And I pray our child will never see

A little corporal again

Point toward a foreign shore

Captivate the hearts of men

Save my soul from evil, lord

And heal this soldiers heart

Ill trust in thee to keep me, lord

Im done with bonaparte