I hope I am not confusing an issue here, Edmund.

Much more typical of what survived in oral tradition is THE GRAND CONVERSATION ON NAPOLEON. This is how Henry Burstow had the song:

THE GRAND CONVERSATION ON NAPOLEON

'Twas over that wild beating track, a friend of the bold Bonaparte
Did pace the sands and lofty rocks of St Helena's shore;
The wind blew in an hurricane, the lightening flash around did dart,
The seagulls were shrieking and the waves all round did roar.
Ha hush, rude winds, the stranger cried, while I do range this dreary spot
Where alas this gallant hero his heavy eyes did close;
But while his valiant limbs do rot, his name shall never be forgot,
This grand conversation on Napoleon arose.

Ha England, he cried, why did you persecute that hero bold?
Much better had you slain him on the plains of Waterloo.
Napoleon was a friend to heroes all, both young and old,
He caused the money for to fly wherever he did go.
Plans were arranging night and day, this bold commander to betray,
He cries, I'll go to Moscow and then it will ease my woes,
If fortune shine without delay, all the world shall me obey,
This grand conversation on Napoleon arose.

Thousands of thousands he then did rise, to conquer Moscow by surprise,
He led his men across the Alps oppressed by frost and snow
But being near the Russian land, he then began to open his eyes,
All Moscow was a-blazing and his men drove to and fro.
Napoleon dauntless viewed the flames and wept in anguish for the same,
He cried, Retreat my gallant men, for time do swiftly go.
What thousands died on that retreat, some were their horses forced to eat,
This grand conversation on Napoleon arose.

At Waterloo his men they fought, commanded by great Bonaparte,
Attended by Field Marshall Ney and he was bribed with gold.
When Blucher led the Prussians in it nearly broke Napoleon's heart;
He cried, My thirty thousand men are slain and I am sold.
He viewed the plains and cried, "'Tis lost," 'twas then his favourite charger crossed,
The plains were in confusion with blood and dying woes,
The bunch of roses did advance and boldly entered into France,
This grand conversation on Napoleon arose. 22

[The broadside adds another stanza Burstow forgot or never knew:]

The Buonaparte was plann'd to be a prisoner across the sea,
The rocks of St Helena, it was the fatal spot,
Doom'd as a prisoner there to be till death did end his misery,
His son soon followed to the tomb; it was an awful plot.
It's long enough they have been dead, the blast of war around is spread
And may our shipping float again to face the daring foes.
And now my boys when honours call we'll boldly mount the wooden walls,
This grand conversation on Napoleon arose. 23