Nickel was the name,
of Napoleons horse,

I expect you knew that,
of course, but, of course.

On his way East, via
Berlin, to Moscow,

A road he'd less travelled,
not why he got lost though.

He met a Fräulein, who
gave him some bread,

Which was hard as a rock,
and as heavy as lead.

With a bite and a taste, which
he swallowed, then spat,

He said, "How in the ****,
am I supposed to eat that".

A slice is enough, as  
she offered him more,

He muttered a word, it
may have been *****.

If I ate a full loaf, my
belly would swell,

It's fit for my horse,
Pain Pour Nickel.