By Trench and Trail in Song and Story Part 3

"I'm at the court of last resort, Our royal Ali Bill's: And found my father at the port Forgetting all his ills.

"Compared with livers over here Dad's health is fairly good, And sure, that boy was full of cheer, On 'burning deck' that stood.

"Great doctor Kaiser, best of men!

To cure dad's mal-a-dy; Injects his Kultur now and then In dad's anatomy.

"This Kultur is a German germ That germinates a juice, Which in its turn creates a worm That generates the duce!

"I'm not well up on wormy laws, Nor how this Kultur's spread, I only know its use will cause A swelling of the head!

"I think we'll not prolong our stay, There are no harems here; The women have no time for play, The men no time for cheer.

"They's raising crops, but none to sell, As few would want their goods: The men are busy raising h.e.l.l-- The women raising spuds!

"The spuds are raising women's sons-- The sons all fight for Bill, And thus it runs that all the Huns Are simply raising h.e.l.l!

"I heard a 'concert of the Powers'

One stormy night of late, And there, of course, the joy was ours To hear the 'Hymn of Hate.'

"It seems to be the only song That all the boches know, And slips with ease from every tongue Where 'Uber alles' grow.

"They sang the 'Hymn' with awful vim, And turning round our way, They looked at me and smiled at 'him,'

As much as if to say,

"'There's not a Turk can beat that work, 'Twas made in Germany!'-- 'That may be so, but by my dirk, I think the Turk will try!'

"Yea cla.s.sed with watchdogs of the Rhine, And dastard deeds they've done, Our dad, I swear, doth really s.h.i.+ne A saintly paragon!

"He felt ashamed that any race, Of earth or h.e.l.l below, Could so outs.h.i.+ne him to his face-- In hatred of a foe!

"I pity the Armenian When dad gets back to work again; For he has tortures now in store Eclipsing all he knew before!"

Enter the Clown Prince.

"The next upon the program was The Kaiser's eldest son, Who sang to thunders of apeplause 'Der land vare ve ver-dun'!

"And as his tears on Brussels flow, His voice pathetic grew, While singing solemnly and low 'I see my Waterloo!

"'I'm sick and sore and sorry and I'm licked and lonely, too: Vile odders see der Vaterland I see mine "Vaterloo"! Boo-hoo!'

"Dear mother it was sad I claim To hear him blubber so; The blooming b.o.o.b is not to blame For what he doesn't know.

"From infancy they taught the kid To bank on 'right's divine'; And that no matter what he did The Lord was with his 'Line.'

"And so, when shot and sh.e.l.l and trench, And 'Me und Gott' und Co.

Had failed to crush the hated French, It queered his status quo!

"But Kaiser Bill was on the job, And said 'it's getting late;'

We'll dry the tear and swab the sob And sing the 'Hymn of Hate.'

And so they sang the 'hymn' again To stimulate the prince: And encored with that sad refrain 'The days of auld lang since.'

"Then Kaiser rising with a spring Said, Gentlemen a-hem-- Our friend, the Sultan, now will sing The 'New Jerusalem'"!

"'And after that, excuse the joke, He'll sing that song of caste, The "Turkey in the Straw, that broke The Camel's back at last."'

"The Kaiser's kounsel knocked the spots Off father's self command, For he had such unholy thots, Anent the Holy Land.

"But he was game as old McBeth, Resolved to do or die; The odor of his very breath Was 'comin' thru the rye':

"'My breath is hot enough to stew, My blood is hot within From being chased like Moses thru The "Wilderness of Sin."

"'They're chasing me across the sand-- Don't mention Waterloo!-- From Dan unto Beersheba and A little further, too.

"'The sand is hot along the trail, Jerusalem how hot--!

And as I hear those bagpipes wail, I murmur, Oh great Scot!

"'Behind each chanter blows a Gael, Loud, strong and piping hot; And those en-chanters never fail To make me, Turkey, trot!

"And woe betide deluded ones Who meet this kilted race, And deem the grim denuded ones But females out of place!

"Engage them in a bayonet charge And dupes will quickly find, Those skirts are worn to camouflage The dynamite behind!

"O demons of the fighting line, Whose limits are the earth; The empire great in which you s.h.i.+ne Doth bless thy place of birth.

"Ubiquitous, pugnacious Scot, You've n.o.bly done your share; For, ever where the fighting's hot, The Tartan flutters there!

"Yea Turkey Trot and Tanko tune!

Those dances are the style, We hop to their compelling rune From Baltic to the Nile.'

"The Kaiser didn't quite approve The course the Sultan chose, And deemed it time that he should move The Turkish mouth to close.

"'He's taken too much Scotch in tow Their praises thus to sing: The next we know he'll queer the show And dance the Highland Fling!'

"And as they led the Turk to bed, He said the deal was raw-- Yes raw and red, 'pipe up,' he said With 'Turkey in the Straw!'

"Here Sheik-Ul-Islam bang arose And cried it wasn't fair, To stem the golden flood that flows From Allah's chosen heir.

"'Mine is the will,' said Kaiser Bill, 'That rules the world today; No kings or khans or G.o.ds or clans Can these my words gainsay.'

"And then to prove that he was king And Ruler over all, He ordered Hindenburg to sing!

Or rather lead the bawl.

"Then Hindenburg mid many raus Essayed a clever line; The song he sang with fervor was, 'Fair Byng-in on the Rhine.'