Poem by William Simson

The Emperor Paul’s 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 weather’d 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 Nelson’s got round, having weather’d 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 laugh’d at yon isles and flotillas; 
As eagles would hens, he scatter’d 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;
Despoil’d 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 welcome’s 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 Davie’s-locker – a sea term for death.

1. Tom Walker in Affliction

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