Roger Brocksom
Some hundred years ago and more, 
As I unfold this tale, 
There lived Napoleon Bonaparte, 
A nasty little male.

A Corsican 'e were by birth,
A soldier he by trade ;
Wi' dreams o' conquering world, when he
A General were made.

'E fought for France and won some wars, 
Quite clever in 'is way;
And courted Josephine, a lass 
'E met at t' Court one day.

'E were so very much in love, 
'E felt 'e were inspired; 
And got promoted, just to win 
The lass that 'e desired.

Ole Nappy were a clever lad, 
And being sorter balmy, 
'E soon became a General 
And boss o' France's army.

'E promised Josephine the world, 
For 'e were proper caught,
And went to war to prove 'is case, 
And won where'er he fought.

When 'e returned to Josephine 
To claim 'er as 'is bride, 
The rest of Europe were against 
Him—no one at his side.

A married man 'e were when next 
'E trundled off to war, 
And having to desert 'is wife 
Made 'im feel very sore.

In 1812 the Russians caused 
Napoleon's retreat; 
'E started out in t' Ford V8 
But finished on t' flat feet.

When 'e got back to Josephine, 
Expecting sympathy, 
She gave 'im such a telling off 
For missing t' victory.

She henpecked 'im from morn till night, 
So poor old Bonaparte 
'Ad got to go to war again 
To win back Jose's heart.

This time 'e made a big mistake, 
As all dictators do ; 
'E started out to beat England, 
But met 'is Waterloo.

'E soon were beat by Wellington,
And taken prisoner;
And though 'e nearly conquered t' world,
'E finished like that there.

Some folk may wonder why that was, 
But t' reason is quite plain; 
A woman... that's wot spoilt the lad, 
And caused 'is star to wane.

Until 'e married Josephine, 
'E did hisself all right; 
But from the day 'e married 'er, 
She nagged 'im day and night.

So you ambitious officers,
Who fight in wars to-day,
Just keep away from marriage, or
You'll end up Nappy's way.
The end