Песня солдата отступающей армии Наполеона Бонапарта
"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 grand army 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…"