Who is to blame what man can guess? I do not want to know,
The U-Boats or the Q.M.S., the Censor or the snow—
It cannot modify the fact that warps my nature so.
Although I may not vent my spleen upon the stricken Mess,
Where fancies of what might have been add gall to bitterness,
I mean to cause some sentient thing confusion and distress.
And who so handy as the Hun? I know what I will do,
I will prevent to-morrow's sun with avid zeal and new,
Betaking me to some O. Pip that gives a charming view;
Each Teuton nose that dares to lift above the tunnelled ground