WIRELESS.
There sits a little demon
Above the Admiralty,
To take the news of seamen
Seafaring on the sea;
So all the folk aboard-ships
Five hundred miles away
Can pitch it to their Lordships
At any time of day.
The cruisers prowl observant;
Their crackling whispers go;
The demon says, "Your servant,"
And lets their Lordships know;
A fog's come down off Flanders?
A something showed off Wick?
The captains and commanders
Can speak their Lordships quick.
The demon sits a-waking;
Look up above Whitehall—
E'en now, mayhap, he's taking
The Greatest Word of all;
From smiling folk aboard-ships
He ticks it off the reel:—
"An' may it please your Lordships,
A Fleet's put out o' Kiel!"
"Much indecision prevails as to what the value of sultanas will be in the near future."
Daily Telegraph.
What the Germans want to know is the price of Sultans.