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