Wherever danger blocks the way An Englishman has led, No storm-tossed sea, no foreign shore, But shelters England's dead; And when brave spirits took their flight To realms beyond the sky, We know Saint Peter didn't say "No English need apply." UNEMPLOYED April, 1915 "I haven't any way, sir, to earn my daily bread; Give me a job, I pray, sir, my children must be fed." "To keep your kids from harm, sir," the city man replied, "There's no place like the farm, sir, the peaceful country side." "I have no work to do, sir," said I to Farmer Sprout; "So I have come to you, sir, to try to help me out." He answered: "Can you plow, sir, or build a load of hay? If you can't milk a cow, sir, you'd better fade away." "Have you a job to-day, sir, to give a working man? My stomach's full of hay, sir, my children live on bran." "I really can't delay, sir," the busy man replied, "Please call some other day, sir, my car is just outside." "I want to find a place, sir," said I to Groucher Black; "I couldn't go the pace, sir, and now I'm off the track." Old Groucher growled in answer, "This town of blasted hopes Has no place for a man, sir, who does not know the ropes." "I'm anxious to enlist, sir, I am a Briton true, To fight the mailed fist, sir, the Kaiser and his crew." Thus answered Dr. Brown,--"Sir, in one main point you lack; I'll have to turn you down, sir, because your teeth don't track." "I'd like to find some work, sir," to Smith, M.P., I spoke; "I really am no shirk, sir, although I'm stony broke." Said he, "You poor old lobster, you have a lot to learn, To get a steady job, sir, you really must intern." THE HATE OF HANS April, 1915 I hate dot teufel, Johnnie Bull, (Der Kaiser says I must) Mit rage mine heart is filled so full Sometime I tink I'll bust. Vot pisness he mit horse and gun, Dot channel shtream to cross? Vot matter for de tings ve done? Der Kaiser is de boss. Dose English, yaw, I tells you true! Dey spoil der Kaiser's plans, Shoost cause ve march de Belgium through Dey kill us Sherman mans. Mine brudder's dead, already, soon, Mine sister is von spy, Mine cousin rides de big balloon, Dot floats up in de sky. My poys--dot story I can't wrote, I lose them, von--two--tree, Ven English teufels sink dose boat, Vot sail der untersee. Mineself, I learn de English talk Von time in Milwaukee, I hang around de Antwerp dock, Und hear vot I can see. Dey tink dey'll shtarve us Shermans oudt, Not yet, already, blease, Ve still haf lots of saur-kraut, Und goot limburger cheese. Mit blenty peers unt blenty shmokes, Und rye bread mixed mit sand, Dis is enough for Sherman folks Dat luf de faderland.