Farewell you splendid citadel metropolis called Paris
Where Phoebus every morning shoots forth refulgent beams
Where Flora's bright aurora is advancing from the orient
With radiant light adorning the pure shining streams.

At evening when the sun retires to where the ocean gilds like fire
And the universe stands to admire her merchandise in store
Commanding Flora's fragrance the fertile fields to decorate,
The royal Corsican to illuminate again on the French shore.

	My name is Napoleon Bonaparte, I'm the conqueror of nations
	I've vanquished German legions and sent Kings from their throne
	I've banished dukes and earls and splendid congregations
	Ah but now they have transported me unto Saint Helena's shore.

Some say the cause of my downfall was the parting with my consort
For to wed the German's daughter it grieved my heart full sore
But the female train I'll never blame for they would never me defame:
When they saw my sword in battle flame, they then did me adore.

Like Hannibal, I crossed the Alps, the burning sands and rocky cliffs
O'er Russia's hills through frost and snow I still my laurels wore
Now I'm on this desert isle where the rats the devil would affright
Yet I hope to shine in armour bright throughout Europe's lands once more.

	My name ...

Though now I'm in an allied yoke, with fire and sword I made them smoke
I've conquered Dutch and Danes and I've surprised the Grand Signeur
I've defeated Austrians and Russians, both the Portuguese and Prussians
Like Joshua, Alexander, or the proud Caesar of yore.

But I severely felt the rod for meddling in the house of God
When icons and golden images in thousands down I tore
I then stole Malta's golden gates, I did the work of God disgrace
But if He grants me time and place, unto Him I'll them restore.

	My name ...

My golden eagles were torn down by Wellington's allied armies
And my troops all in disorder could no longer stand the field
I was sold that very afternoon all on the eighteenth day of June
My reinforcements proved trait'rous and I was forced then for to yield.

For three full days, I stood the plain my freedom's course for to maintain
Many thousands there did I leave slain and covered in their gore
I never fled without revenge or to the allied armies cringed
Ah but now my sword is sheathed and Paris is no more.

	My name ...

recording: Terry Timmins [Irish Traditional Music Archive]

recording: Paddy Collins [Irish Traditional Music Archive]

recording: John Mayberry & Jamie Beaton (1993) [YouTube]

notes: song notes [Traditional Tune Archive]

source: broadside printing [Villanova University]

source: broadside printing [National Library of Scotland]

parody: Fruit Machine [Mudcat Cafe]