(8)
Gae now get your guns in a clatter,
Your Emperor I ſtill wiſh to be.
But O how it angers me fairly,
That they winna gi'e me my will,
I think I cou'd conquer them fairly,
If it werna for auld Jonny Bull.
His ſiller and men did oppreſs me,
The time I was ſorting at Kings,
And now he ſeems yet to diſtreſs me,
And draws out his purſe by the ſtrings.
Wi' peace I thought ſurely to blink him,
Till I cou'd be better prepar'd,
And then I intended to clink him,
When he wou'd be aff o' his guard:
But a' my deep fetches are humbled,
That I a lang time had made,
And Blucher and Wellington fright me,
And make me to ſcratch at my head.
I dread that John Bull he will faſh us,
And Saunders he winna be ſlack,
The Coſſacks that ſadly did thraſh us,
I fear that they'll be at their back.
I ken they a' threaten to ſkelp me,
As ſure as my fam'd name is Nap,
But try what ye can for to help me,
For now they are a' on my tap.
FINIS.
