Men have mellowed to old Finnish folk tunes,
Kept step to Bavarian rhyme.
Old Madrid set our Spanish friends boasting:
Hungarian songs we’ve heard, too,
Yet, spite of the singing and toasting,
They live under Red, White and Blue.
They never go back to Vienna
Nor foregather again on the Rhine;
Have ne’er seen their kin in bleak Finland
Nor been o’er Bavarian line.