If you enjoy the bloody spur
That rips your cannon-fodder's ranks;
If to his boots you still adhere,
Kissing 'em as you've always kissed 'em,
Why, who are we to interfere
With your internal Teuton system?
If from your bonds you know quite well
You might, this moment, find release,
Changing, at will, your present hell
For Liberty's heaven of lasting peace;