Mark Knopfler Done With Bonaparte
(M. Knopfler) We've 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 armée 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, Lord 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 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 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 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 soldier's heart I'll trust in thee to keep me, Lord I'm done with Bonaparte
