A PRANCING PRUSSIAN.
(Showing how Colonel VON REUTER, late of Zabern, appealed to his regiment to defend the honour of the Army. The following speech is based upon evidence given at the Strassburg trial.)
My Prussian braves, on whom devolves the mission
To vindicate our gallant Army's worth,
Upholding in its present proud position
The noblest fighting instrument on earth—
If, in your progress, any vile civilian
Declines the homage of the lifted hat,
Your business is to paint his chest vermilion—
Kindly attend to that.
Never leave barracks, when you go a-shopping,
Without an escort loaded up with lead;
Always maintain a desultory popping
At anyone who wags a wanton head;
If, as he passes, some low boy should whistle
With nose in air and shameless chin out-thrust,
Making your scandalised moustaches bristle—
Reduce the dog to dust.
I hear a sinister and shocking rumour
Touching the native tendency to chaff.
If you should meet with specimens of humour
See that our soldiers get the final laugh;
Fling the facetious corpses in the fountains
So as the red blood overflows the brink;
Keep on until the blue Alsatian mountains
Turn a reflective pink.
Should any female whom your shadow touches
Grudge you the glad, but deferential, eye;
Should any cripple fail to hold his crutches
At the salute as you go marching by;
Draw, in the KAISER's name—'tis rank high treason;
Stun them with sabre-strokes upon the poll;
Then dump them (giving no pedantic reason)
Down cellars with the coal.
Be on your guard against all people strolling
In ones or twos about the public square
Hard by your quarters; set your men patrolling;
Ask every knave what he is doing there;
And, if in your good wisdom you determine
To view their conduct in a dangerous light,
Bring the machine-guns out and blow the vermin
Into the Ewigkeit.
Enough! I leave our honour in your keeping.
What are your bright swords for except to slay?
Preserve their lustre; let me see them leaping
Out of their scabbards twenty times a day;
Unless we smash these craven churls like crockery
To prove our right of place within the sun,
Our martial prestige has become a mockery
And Deutschland's day is done!
O.S.
"The dancing, in the conventional bullet style, of Miss Sybil Roe, was quite good."—Wiltshire Times.
We confess that the bullet style is too fast for us.
"In all the best dress ateliers classic evening gowns are now being exhibited, and in many of these the lines of the corsage closely resemble the draperies to be seen on the Venus de Milo."—Daily Mail.
We must go and look at the Venus de Milo's corsage again.