OCR Text |
Show ANA USTRIAN LAMENT We Austrians cannot stand the drizzle Of Russian shrapnel at Przemysl! The 'Russian hordes are in the track of Our noble men who flee to Cracow, A million Cossacks may debouch, At any moment, at Olkusz! A million more reported are At Kamionkastrumilowa! And yet another million have Consumed all food at Jareslaw! Ah! ev'ry thing they cleared as well as The larders of Jaszarokszcellas! Then down they poured, like molten lava, On rural, innocent Suczawa! And now they march, with hungry screech, On harmless little Drohobycz! Curs'd be the foreign rascals, greasy, Who chased us at Tustanowice! Steel motor cars ten guns in each car Are rolling on towards Wieliczka! How truly awful will It be If Cossacks mangle us at Styrj! No one may even dare to guess of The patriots who fell at Rzeszow. Of Czechs, 'tis said, they've buried a Battalion at Csikszereda! As at the banquet of Belshazzar, The linger writes at Njiregyhaza! So, ere the sky with dawn grows streaky, Let's fly to dear old Zaleszczki! London Opinion. |