But I can't realise it—no, not in the least,
And, in spite of the papers, I doubt it.
A Chinaman seems such a nebulous chap,
And I can't fancy shedding the gore of a Jap.
Those parchmenty fellows have fleets?
Big Iron-clads, each worth a million?
I cannot conceive it, my reason it beats.
The lord of the pencil vermilion
Fits in with a teacaddy, not a torpedo.
Just picture a Ram in that queer bay of Yedo!