July 1st, 1919
Now that Heinie is licked to a frazzle,
And Fritzie is clipped in the comb,
We're holding a big razzle-dazzle
To welcome our soldier boys home.
They bore themselves brave in the battle
They kept themselves clean on parade,
They herded the Bosches like cattle
In many a nerve-racking raid.
In order to do the boys justice,
We need all the help we can get,
Without it the contract will bust us
And swamp the committee with debt.
So we want all old timers of Wingham,
(Although the good town has gone dry)
Fast as railroad or auto can bring 'em,
To come on the first of July.
Perhaps you've grown rich on the prairies,
Your farm in town lots you have sold,
Or, with products of wheat fields and dairies,
Have lined all your pockets with gold,
Or it may be your harp strings are rusted,
Your measures all halting and lame,
Perhaps you're discouraged and busted,
And tired of playing the game.
If so, come to Wingham this summer,
Forget the world's trouble and strife,
Our program will sure be a hummer,
We'll give you the time of your life.
We'll make no untimely suggestions,
Concerning the length of your stay,
Nor ask you impertinent questions
About what you've done while away.
The Opinions Of Fritz
FRITZ FINDS FAULT
("Canadians are using lacrosse sticks to throw hand grenades into German trenches."—News Item.)
"Dere is some tings not right in dis schrap,
For dose English and French don't fight fair
Ven dey pring in de Turco and Jap
Und de Hindu and beeg Russian bear;
But already us goot Sherman mans
Ve vas ending dot var britty quick,
Till dey shtart oop some more dirty blans,
Ven dose poys vill trow bombs mit a shtick.
Ve don't mind some old rifles und guns,
Nor dose airships und Dreadnoughts und tings,
Ve don't care if dey call us de Huns,
[1] Und ve laugh at de song dat dey sings:
But dose teufels from Canada come,
Dey vould blay us von mean shabby trick,
For ve can't get avay from de bomb
Dat dey trow from de end of a shtick.
Ven ve tink ve are safe for de day,
Mit goot sausage and saurkraut filled,
Dose Canadians shtart oop to blay
Mit a game dat ve nefer haf drilled.
Ven ve see dose tings fly troo de air
Den already ve feel britty sick;
If dey hit us dey don't seem to care,
Ven dey trow dose old bombs mit a shtick.
Ven ve shoots all our cartridge avay,
Und de vagons don't pring any more;
Ven our shells get more scarce efry day,
Mit our shirts und our breechaloons tore,
Und de shmokes und de limburger done
(Dot is spreading it on britty tick),
Den I tells you it isn't no fun
Ven dose poys vill trow bombs mit a shtick."
[1] Tipperary
FRITZ HAS ANOTHER GROUCH
(The Germans say that if it hadn't been for the Canadian Rats they would have got through to Calais.—News Item.)
Dere's a ting dat I'll nefer furshtay.
Ven ve shtart oop dat goot poison gas,
Vy dose Rats don't get oudt of de vay,
So us Shermans to Ypres can pass.
Ven ve shoots all our cartridge avay,
Dat's already deir time to retreat;
Vot's de use so ve make de beeg fight,
If dose Rats don't know ven dey get beat?
Mit de gas dey gets britty soon killed,
Den ve send dem de shrapnel some more,
Und de bombshell mit limburger filled,
Dat vill shmell vorse dan Duffeldorf's shtore;
But dose beggars come back mit a rush,
Und I twice mit deir bay'nets get pricked;
Vot's de use so ve make de beeg push,
If dose Rats don't know ven dey get licked?
I soon made some goot running, you pet!
Ven dey come like vild teufels behind;
All my life I vill dream of dem yet,
For I tought sure mine bapers vos signed.
Dey came on mit a yump und a yell
Till right into our trenches dey dashed;
Vot's de use so ve trow de beeg shell,
If dose Rats don't know ven dey get smashed?
Ve haf tried efry blan dat ve knows,
But to scare dem no vay haf ve found,
(How ve vish dey had shtayed vere de snows
Blow dose maples und pines all around).
Day und night dey vill put oop de shcrap,
Und already ve lose vot ve got;
Vot's de use for us setting de trap,
If dose Rats don't know ven dey get caught.