They took him below, and sat him down On the edge of the Captain's bed,-- Treatment vile for a foemen caught, they gave him a bottle of Navy Port-- Fiery, dark, and red. They landed him at a Naval Base, With S. two-twenty D. _Supplied_--_a large and bearded Hun: Grosse Admirals, angry, One-- For draft to Admiraltee._ And Grosse-Admiral Schultz von Schmidt, Graf von Hansa-Zoom, Faded away to Donnington Hall, to an English park with a guarded wall --To an elegant private room. And there he paced the carpet up, And paced the carpet down, "Alte Himmel!"--the prisoners cried--"Some one's trod on the German pride, And dared the Hansa frown!" The Admiral called for a fountain pen And Reference Sheets[1] galore, And silence fell on the smoking-room--for Grosse-Admiral Hansa-Zoom Was throwing a Gage of War. "_Can I believe your Lordships mean To stand so idly by-- When a young lieutenant of twenty-four, pleading the need of Naval War, Shall make an Admiral fly?_ _Never shall I believe it true That I should have to fall On an icy sea with an awful spank, by the act of one of a junior rank, I--Schultz, of Donnington Hall._" Their Lordships read--and bells were heard That woke the echoing past; And Scouts and messengers jumped and fled--till all was still as a world of dead Beneath the wireless mast. My Lords in solemn conclave drew Behind a bolted door, Threshing it out in full debate--"Is it a case for an Acting Rate? Or use of Martial Law?" At four o'clock in the afternoon, With tea-cups clattering past, Along the echoing Portland floor the whisper passed from door to door-- "_They've settled it all at last!_" And I have the word of a lady fair In Room Two Thousand B-- (A perfect peach, I beg to state), who typed the letter in triplicate And passed it on to me. "_We find the Enemy Admiral's Note Is based on Service Law-- That disrespect to a Flag afloat has sullied the fame of Poulson's boat Despite the Needs of War._ _But he erred unknowing--so we shall mask His breach of Service pomp,-- We'll make him an Admiral, D.S.B.[2]--Acting--payless--biscuit free, In lieu of lodging and Comp._ _We'll rate him at once as an A.I.O.[3] With a K.R.A. and an I.,[4] We'll make him a deputy C.P.O.,[5] with Rank of Admiral, whether or no, And a beautiful Flag to fly._" And now when Poulson sails to war In E-boat Seventy-two, The boatswains pipe and the bugles blare, "_Stand to attention-- forward there_! _The Admiral's passing you!_"