SHIPBUILDERSThe German people reared themAn idol made of wood;And Hindenburg before themLifelike and stupid stood.To clothe him all in ironAnd thus his soul express,With nails and spikes they coveredHis wooden nakedness.And when they, thus had clothed himAll in a suit of mail,Still came they, wild-eyed, lookingFor space to drive a nail.Whenever Teuton airmenSlay boys and girls at play,Or U-boats, drowning babies,Create a holiday.Then, gathering round their statue,A happy German throngDrive nails into the idolTo make him still more strong.Avenge the babes, shipbuilders,That on the seas have died;Avenge the little childrenMurdered for Wilhelm’s pride.Come, gather at the shipyards,And let your hammers ring,For more than ships and cargoesWaits on your fashioning.Come, gather at the shipyards;With every bolt you driveBethink you ’tis the KaiserWhose brutish head you rive.Come, gather at the shipyards,And swing with might and main;’Tis Tirpitz and the Crown PrinceThat you to-day have slain.Come, gather at the shipyards,And heat the metal hot,For it is Bethmann HollwegYou’re boiling in the pot.Come, gather at the shipyards,—And when the day is done,You’ve spent it in driving spikes,In Hindernburg the Hun.Come, gather at the shipyards,And toil with healthy hate,For only you can save the world,The Hun is at the gate.ARTHUR STANWOOD PIER
The German people reared themAn idol made of wood;And Hindenburg before themLifelike and stupid stood.To clothe him all in ironAnd thus his soul express,With nails and spikes they coveredHis wooden nakedness.And when they, thus had clothed himAll in a suit of mail,Still came they, wild-eyed, lookingFor space to drive a nail.Whenever Teuton airmenSlay boys and girls at play,Or U-boats, drowning babies,Create a holiday.Then, gathering round their statue,A happy German throngDrive nails into the idolTo make him still more strong.Avenge the babes, shipbuilders,That on the seas have died;Avenge the little childrenMurdered for Wilhelm’s pride.Come, gather at the shipyards,And let your hammers ring,For more than ships and cargoesWaits on your fashioning.Come, gather at the shipyards;With every bolt you driveBethink you ’tis the KaiserWhose brutish head you rive.Come, gather at the shipyards,And swing with might and main;’Tis Tirpitz and the Crown PrinceThat you to-day have slain.Come, gather at the shipyards,And heat the metal hot,For it is Bethmann HollwegYou’re boiling in the pot.Come, gather at the shipyards,—And when the day is done,You’ve spent it in driving spikes,In Hindernburg the Hun.Come, gather at the shipyards,And toil with healthy hate,For only you can save the world,The Hun is at the gate.
ARTHUR STANWOOD PIER