Boney is away from his wars and his fighting
He is gone to a place which he takes no delight in;
Be steadfast in time for what's coming ye know not
And your days might end on the Isle of St. Helena.

Louisa does weep for her husband's departing,
She dreams when she sleeps and she wakes broken-hearted,
Not a friend to console her among those who're with her,
O she sighs when she thinks on the Isle of St. Helena.

The rude rushing waves all around the shores are washing,
And the great bellows heave on the wild rocks a-dashing,
You may look to the moon, to the huntress Diana,
Which he gazes at from the Isle of St. Helena.

No more in St. Cloud he'll be seen in such splendour,
He is lost to his troops the great Alexander,
But the young King of Rome and the Prince of Guiana
Say they'll bring their father home from teh Isle of St. Helena.