Which you didn't invent, nor your sort; it's hus aitchless ones start all the fun,
And our yesterday's wheeze you freeze on to to-morrer, as sure as a gun.
And the same with your sentiments, Harry. Your loud "Rule, Britannyer" sall right;
But we gave you the patriot tip, years ago, in "We don't want to fight."
You water it down, and then wave it as if 'twos your own privit flag,
And then, arter nicking our principerles, slang us—and with our own gag!
I'm one with you as to the furriner, leastways you seem one with me,
And when you rile up at the rot about "'Arries Abroad," I agree.
I shan't discumfuddle myself if they don't like my tystes or my togs.
Let the Germans go 'ome and eat coke, Frenchies stick to their snyles and stewed frogs.