A poem inspired by the Emperor incident.
The Glasgow Religion
(From the Scotsman)
"The great centre of Scottish Religion is Glasgow. This is the mighty heat which supplies all the veins of its spiritual life. Edinburgh, with all its intelligence, is a cold, sceptical, heartless city. Glasgow is very different; it is perhaps the most Christian City on earth" - Scottish Review
For drink an' devotion, what toon is like Glasgow,
For kirk an' for tavern, for sinner an' saunt?
Each Sunday three sermons, an' whisky a cask o' --
The Deil's in the chield ony mair wha could want.
They crack o' the fresh air, and gaun down the water,
An' say that the reek a' the puir folk is killin';
I care na a flea for the susionless clatter,
But stick to my tumbler an' swear by gill filin'!
'Twas last Sabbath nicht, when the exercise skailt,
Wi' Bailie Mactoddy I gae'd to the "Craw."
An' put only three tumblers under my belt
E'er daunderin' doon to the auld Broomielaw.
In time for the Emperor as she cam' in
Wi' her cargo o' sinners, for ance just to show them,
I still on the Sunday determined to sin,
By gaun doon the water, what Glasgow thocht o' them.
How very refrechin' it was for to see
The gauntlet they ran, when they ventured ashore
Midst our citizen's pious; between you and me
How they hissed them, an' jibet, an' hooted, an' swore!
Ae chap, through the crowd in attempting to shrink,
A policemen made spin round like ony teetotum;
I'd gie ony sinner a gallon o' drink
If he drilled me a hole in the Emperor's bottom!
For what richt have heathenish Englishmen here,
Corruptin' the ways of ilk decent Scots body,
Wi' their travellin' on Sunday, an' drinkin' strong beer,
Disjoinin' the union o' Sabbath and toddy?