From what I remember of my high school solo.

To France were returning two Grenadiers,
from Russia their way they'd been making,
and when they came to the German frontier,
Their hearts were depressed and shaken,

Twas there that they heard that sad story of woe,
the throne of their country was shaken,
Fair France had been conquered, her armies laid low,
and their Emperor in prison was taken!

Then wept in their sorrow and grief the twain,
Their thoughts to him ever turning,
the first one spoke, I'm faint with pain,
my wound still unhealed is burning,

The other said, the end has come,
I too would gladly perish,
but I've a wife and child at home,
to love and guard and cherish.

Ha! What is wife or child to me?
My thoughts to my emperor are flying,
Let them beg for bread in the poverty!
My emperor in prison is lying!

One boon I ask thee fore I go,
for death is o'er me creeping,
my body to France should go,
In soil of my country sleeping,

My cross of honor let me wear,
won as the flags defender,
my musket to arm should bear,
for I shall not surrender!

And there I'll lie to the day of doom,
till o'er me trumpets are sounding,
I'll wake again to the cannon's boom,
and soldiers to battle are marching,

When the Emperor rides over the plain once again,
and swords clash and muskets rattle,
I'll rise up in arms from the grave once again,
For France and my emperor to battle!