The Obscure Corsican

The Obscure Corsican                         October 17, 2004

There was a little boy with big dreams 

From the isle of Corsica. 

Didn't speak a lick of French, 

And yet, he took a nation's heart. 

Was it the escargot, 

Or maybe a revolution? 

He was a mathematician, 

But a brilliant politician... 

Generalissimo, too. 

A coup d'etat did the trick, 

As the little man, as he was, took control. 

This Corsican was so obscure. 

He conquered a continent, 

Built himself an empire. 

He did all this, in the name of peace, so he said. 

Misunderstood, perhaps? 

As genius often is, of course, 

But he wanted the world, 

And you know you can't have that. 

He spread his wings to limits 

Far too far away, 

And he felt the cossacks' wrath 

In the forbidden land of the Rus, 

Leading to the obscure Corsican's fall from grace. 

There was the exile to Elba 

After his defeat at Leipzig, 

But you had to know he wouldn't stay down. 

He retook his adopted country, 

And not a single shot was fired, 

Only to see his last hurrah fade away. 

And there was the obscure Corsican, 

Done for, defeated at last, 

His vision of a grand empire, dashed. 

He spent his last days on St. Helena 

In the South Atlantic waters, 

And he died in much the shape he began. 

And here's to the obscure Corsican, 

Big dreamer that he was. 

Some say he was the antichrist, 

But I prefer to think he was just misunderstood, 

And for what, you ask, is it all worth to me? 

The man from humble beginnings made a name for himself. 

The obscure Corsican should get further review. 

The obscure Corsican deserves to get his due.