Chapter 3

"There is a languor in this alien air;We are reduced, in fact, to famine fare;Mine, I may say, is dripping based on bread(Ugh!), and I gather I shall soon be dead.It is the same all over, East or West;Hungry each hollow just below the chest.Daily, I'm told, they rake the very dust,Hoping in vain to come across a crust.And, when our God-bornWilhelmbrings his HunsHere, he will find a few odd skeletons."Such is the tale a Teuton lately writ.How, then, I ask, does London look so fit?This is the reason, mainly, I surmise—We are fed up, of course, with German Lies.

"There is a languor in this alien air;We are reduced, in fact, to famine fare;Mine, I may say, is dripping based on bread(Ugh!), and I gather I shall soon be dead.It is the same all over, East or West;Hungry each hollow just below the chest.Daily, I'm told, they rake the very dust,Hoping in vain to come across a crust.And, when our God-bornWilhelmbrings his HunsHere, he will find a few odd skeletons."Such is the tale a Teuton lately writ.How, then, I ask, does London look so fit?This is the reason, mainly, I surmise—We are fed up, of course, with German Lies.

"There is a languor in this alien air;

We are reduced, in fact, to famine fare;

Mine, I may say, is dripping based on bread

(Ugh!), and I gather I shall soon be dead.

It is the same all over, East or West;

Hungry each hollow just below the chest.

Daily, I'm told, they rake the very dust,

Hoping in vain to come across a crust.

And, when our God-bornWilhelmbrings his Huns

Here, he will find a few odd skeletons."

Such is the tale a Teuton lately writ.

How, then, I ask, does London look so fit?

This is the reason, mainly, I surmise—

We are fed up, of course, with German Lies.


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