War Rhymes by Wayfarer Part 2

THE HATE OF HANS

April, 1915

I hate dot teufel, Johnnie Bull, (Der Kaiser says I must) Mit rage mine heart is filled so full Sometime I tink I'll bust.

Vot pisness he mit horse and gun, Dot channel shtream to cross?

Vot matter for de tings ve done?

Der Kaiser is de boss.

Dose English, yaw, I tells you true!

Dey spoil der Kaiser's plans, Shoost cause ve march de Belgium through Dey kill us Sherman mans.

Mine brudder's dead, already, soon, Mine sister is von spy, Mine cousin rides de big balloon, Dot floats up in de sky.

My poys--dot story I can't wrote, I lose them, von--two--tree, Ven English teufels sink dose boat, Vot sail der untersee.

Mineself, I learn de English talk Von time in Milwaukee, I hang around de Antwerp dock, Und hear vot I can see.

Dey tink dey'll shtarve us Shermans oudt, Not yet, already, blease, Ve still haf lots of saur-kraut, Und goot limburger cheese.

Mit blenty peers unt blenty shmokes, Und rye bread mixed mit sand, Dis is enough for Sherman folks Dat luf de faderland.

Ve'll tear dot English heart oudt yet Mit eagle's beak and claws; Shoost now ve can't to London get, I don't know vy pecause.

Ve should haf been dere long ago, Mit dose machine dot flies, But tings seem gooing britty slow, Berhaps der Kaiser lies.

HANS BEGINS TO WONDER

April, 1915

I vonder if dot's nefer so, Shaymeezle Russia take.

You can't pelieve von half you know, Such lies dose papers make.

I vonder if dose tales are true, Ve lose most all our s.h.i.+ps, Our colonies and commerce too; I hear tings mit my lips.

I vonder if dose Dardanelles, Can shtop der allied fleet, Somedimes to me dere's someting tells, Maype dose Turks get peat.

I vonder, too, if Italy Vill give to us der b.u.mp, Shoost now she's vaiting yet to see Vichway der cat vill yump.

I vonder can our army shtop Dose Russian teufels' raid, Or vill dey gain de mountain top Or fail to make de grade.

I vonder if dot Balkan bunch, Und Greece und Holland too, Should give us britty soon de punch, Vot vill der Kaiser do.

I vonder vere der Kaiser shtays Mit all dose poys of his, You pet, dey keep a goot long vays From vere de bullets whiz.

I vonder if dot kultur's goot, Sometimes it is, no doubt, But ven it comes to daily foodt I luf der saur-kraut.

I vonder if ve all get stung, Like vot de Yankees say; Der Kaiser maype yet get hung, If ve don't vin de day.

Mine gracious! vot is dat I say?

No von, I hope, don't hear; Dose spies vould sell mine life away For von goot drink of peer.

=RECRUITING APPEALS=

JACK CANUCK

October, 1914

"Only forty per cent of the volunteers at Valcartier are Canadian born." "A large number of men are being kept at home by their wives and mothers."

--Recent News Items.

Our Jack Canuck is active, He plays a pretty goal, But make swift runs to cover When drums begin to roll.

And Jack Canuck's unselfish, He lets the honors go All to his British brother, When war time bugles blow.

And Jack Canuck is modest; That's why he chooses rears, And sees the front seats taken By British volunteers.

Yes, Jack Canuck's a hero Whose glory never fades; He'll lick his weight in wild cats --The day his lodge parades.

And Jack Canuck's free handed He sends, (Jack's awful wise), His dumpling dust in s.h.i.+p loads; (It pays to advertise).

For Jack Canuck is thrifty, He wants, when peace is made, To feed the worn out nations, And capture all the trade.

And Miss Canuck and Mrs., They value so the lives Of husband, son and sweetheart, These daughters, maids and wives.

They'll let the Belgian mother, The French and English maid Give husband, lover, brother, To stop the Kaiser's raid.

They'll see sweet Highland Mary Walk life's long path alone, And hear dear Irish Nora Wail for the loved ones gone.

They'll send a feather pillow Or knit a pair of socks, And think they've done their duty By them that take the knocks.

Oh that our hearts were bigger, And not so worldly wise; 'When duty calls, or danger;'

Ready to sacrifice.