Invades this warring isle,
And my beloved Germania brings
Wearing her largest smile;
When close about her waist I coil
And mouth to mouth apply,
Not SNOWDEN, patriot son of toil,
Will be more pleased than I.

When round the No-Conscription board
The wines of Rhineland flow,
And many a rousing _Hoch!_ is roared
To toast the _status quo_;
When o'er the swiftly-circling bowl
Our happy tears run dry,
Not PONSONBY, that loyal soul,
Will be more pleased than I.

When sausages and sauerkraut
Fulfil the air with spice,
And loosened tongues the praise shall shout
Of Peace-at-any-price;
When German weeds our lips employ
And hearts are full and high,
Not CHARLES TREVELYAN, blind with joy,
Will be more pleased than I.

Stone walls do not my feet confine
Nor yet a barbed-wire cage;
I talk at large and claim as mine
The freeman's heritage;