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Poem by William Simson

The Emperor Pauls Flight to Pandemonium

The Emperor Paul was a plague to us all,
	And excited the wrath of our navy; 
But the moment he found we had weatherd the Sound,
	For shelter fled down to Sir Davie, auld Davie;
	Plump downward to dainty auld Davie.1  

Says Davie, what haste? ye seem to be chased;
	Ay, chased wi a witness, says Paul, sir: 
Lord Nelsons got round, having weatherd the Sound,
	In spite of their powder and hall, sir, and all, sir,
	Yon forts and strong batteries all, sir.

Of Chroningberg fort he just made a sport;
	He laughd at yon isles and flotillas; 
As eagles would hens, he scatterd the Danes,
	And sank all their craft in the billows, poor fellows,
	Quite tumbled them under the billows.

Our friends on the deep now daurna play peep,
	Afraid of some horrible evil; 
For the story goes round, from the Nile to the Souiid,
	That Nelson of Bront is a devil  sea devil;
	For his prowess proclaims him a devil.

Since poor Copenhagen his Lordship is flegging, 
	With grape, bomb, and ball, helter-skelter;
Despoild of my rest, I dived from my nest
	Plump down to your regions, for shelter, grant shelter; 
	O, Davie, do grant me some shelter!

Says Davie to Paul, be easy, poor saul,
	You are safe and as welcomes a brither; 
Come ben  tak a seat by your mammie, auld Kate:
	What a chance you wan down to your mither, safe hither!
	What a comfort to Kate, your auld mither!

1 In allusion to Davies-locker  a sea term for death.

William Simson

William Simson's other poems:
  1. Tom Walker in Affliction

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