They are coming, the carpet-baggers, their voices are heard in the land,
Guttural Teuton organs, but very polite and bland;
And our arms are stretched for their welcome; we've buried the past like a dud;
For blood may be thicker than water, but Trade is thicker than blood.
The Winter of war is over, and lo! with the dawn of Spring
They come, and we greet them coming, like swallows that homeward swing,
Fair as the violet's waking, swift as the snows in flood,
For blood may be thicker than water, but Trade is thicker than blood.
Likewise with Soviet Russia—we've done with the need to fight;
There are gentler methods (and cheaper) of putting the whole thing right;