'Twas brussels, and the loos liège
Did meuse and arras in latour;
All vimy were the metz maubege,
And the tsing-tau namur.
"Beware the petrograd, my son—
The jaws that bite, the claws that plough!
Beware the posen, and verdun
The soldan mons glogau!"
He took his dixmude sword in hand;
Long time his altkirch foe he sought;
Then rested he 'neath the warsaw tree,
And stood awhile in thought.
And as in danzig thought he stood
The petrograd, with eyes of flame,
Came ypring through the cracow wood,
And longwied as it came.
One two! One two! and through and through
The dixmude blade went snicker-snack;
He left it dead, and with its head
He gallipolied back.
"And hast thou slain the petrograd?
Come to my arms, my krithnia boy!
O chanak day! Artois! Grenay!"
He woevred in his joy.
'Twas brussels, and the loos liège
Did meuse and arras in latour;
All vimy were the metz maubege,
And the tsing-tau namur.
F. G. Hartswick.
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