A Sing-Song
I. THE COMMAND
To his crack army corps, ’twas the Kaiser who spoke:
By Bavarians bold must the British be broke.
’Tis the hope of my heart they may meet you but once,
To let the world see how Meinheer Atkins runs.
So fill up your cups with Bavarian beer,
Of contemptible armies the road you must clear.
Then go for the British and show me some sport
Wipe them out of existence, and send your report.’
II. THE REPORT
‘ We met,
’Twas in a crowd,
And we thought they would shun us.
We stormed ;
They would not budge,
But they started to gun us.
They charged,
We did not wait,
There was no time to potter.
We thought
We were hot stuff,
But the Tommies were hotter.
We’re nabbed ;
They’ve got us tight,
And we’re sadder and wiser,
And you
Are the cause
Of this anguish, my Kaiser.’
