Sweet Josephine I read of your dream,
Toward you I sail the swollen sea,
All below me the tempestuous deep,
But ne'er as deep as my Love for thee.

My sails are full, the wind blows strong,
All around me enemy ships,
No musket ball nor cannon gun,
Could ne'er delay me from your crimson lips.

Overhead a storm of rolling cloud,
Threatens the survival of my fleet,
Lightening flash and thunder roar,
But not as loud as my heart doth beat.

My Josephine, I'm drawing near,
For a glimpse of you my eyes are sore,
Your Danny Boy is wounded deep,
But the pipes, the pipes are calling me to shore.

In my hand a red rose stem,
As blood it trickles down my chest,
In the throws of Love it will make a mark,
A red petal stain on your snow white breast.

The fighting o'er, the battle won,
The tempest calm o'er waters serene,
And I Napoleon would brave it all again,
For my one true Love, my Josephine.