Than such behaviour on the part
Of inoffensive cannon fodder.

And yet one never really knows.
You cannot feed his massive trunk
On fairy tales of beaten foes
Or HINDENBURG'S "victorious" bunk;
And if his rations run too short
Through this accursed British blockade
Even the worm may turn and sport
A revolutionary cockade.

Well, at the worst, I have my loot;
And if, in search of healthier air,
We Hohenzollerns do a scoot,
There's wine and women everywhere;
And, for myself, I frankly own
A taste for privacy; I should rather
Not face the high light on a throne--
But O my poor, my poor old Father!

O.S.

* * * * *

THE MUD LARKS.

THE French are a great people; the more I see of them the more I admire
them, and I have been seeing a lot of them lately.