Oh, Bony he has gone from his wars all a-fightin’
He has gone to the place where he takes no delight in.
And there he may sit down and tell the scenes that he’s seen of
When full long doth he mourn on the Isle of St. Helena.

Oh, Louisy she weeps for her husband’s departin’
She dreams when she sleeps and she wakes broken-hearted.
Not a friend to console her, even those who might be with her
For she mourns when she thinks on the Isle of St. Helena.

Oh the rude rushing waves all around the shores a-washin’
And the great billows heaves on the wild rocks are dashin’.
He may look to the moon o’er the great Mount Diana
With his eyes o’er the waves roll around St. Helena.

No more in St. Cloud he’ll be seen in such splendor
Or go on with his wars like the great Alexander,
For the young king of Rome and the prince of Gehenna
They have caused him to die on the Isle of St. Helena.

O you Parliaments of England and you Holy Alliance
To a prisoner of war you may now bid defiance.
For his base intrudin’ and his base misdemeanors
Have caused him to die on the Isle of St. Helena.

Come all you’s got wealth, pray beware of ambition
For it’s a degree of fate that may change your condition.
[Be’s it best in time]* for what’s to come you know not
For fear you may be changed like he on the Isle of St. Helena.

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