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Show 1 i ii r i i1 n 1 11 1 1 i s3es 1 m. i i i i TiTfrrrmm 1 1 i m n 1 1 -rrrn i rrrrriMjj f Shall the Kaiser Be Kept Alive? J1 LET HIM LIVE! (Prom "The Silent Partner.") As long as flowers their perfume give, ( So long I'd let tho Kaiser live Live and live for a thousand years, With nothing to drink but Belgian tears, With nothing to quench his awful thirst But the salted brine of a Scotchman's curse. ; I would let him live on a dinner a day, Served from silver on a golden tray Served with things both dainty and sweet . ,t . Served with everything but things to eat. ' And I'd make him a bed of silken sheen, With costly linens to lie between, With covers of down and filets of lace, And downy pillows piled in place; Yet when to his comfort he would yield, It should, stink with the rot of the battlefield. And through all the days, through all the years, There should be an anthem in his ears, Ringing and singing and never done : Prom the edge of light to the set of sun, Moanings and moanings and moanings wild, Of a ravaged French girl and her bastard child' t In "No Man's Land", where the Irish fell, I'd start the Kaiser a private hell; ii I'd jab him, stab him, give him gas; 1 In every wound I'd pour ground glass; ' I'd march him out where brave boys died " Out past the lads he has crucified. In the fearful dread of his living tomb, I'd add a spur to his fearful doom; I'd make 'him sing, in a stirring manner, : The wonder words of The Star-Spangled Banner' O, NO! LET HTM DIE! (By the Poet Laureate.) . I'd build him a cage of the toughest wood, And rib it with steel, strong as I could; I'd line it well with the Stars and Stripes, And make him a dress of the same, by cripes. . . With a kick in the paunch, I would throw him in, And let him soak in his old rotten skin ; With every breath he should pray to die, But thumbing his nose Death should pass 'him by. Snug in one corner an old graphophone Should split the ear with its strident tone, ' m? d Dlsht and day with a ceaseless zest ' ; Ihe Kaiser should know not a moment's zest rnjre,otihroueh thc day and a11 the nielt loS Ihe Star Spangled Banner should be its song; Aiid over tho world tho beast I'd steer With the voice of hate in his perverse ear.- Then off to the Belgians' land of despair, lo see the graves 'he had planted there, 1 ci 1t?Q ff"1311111 Gnosis of his butchered dead i bnould swarm in legions about his head. ,( w-!? Sh? fil1 cvcry nook of his Prison cage I. a Jth ockm& seers and the groans of rage; r And the mothers of girls of his foul embrace, bnould heckle him sore and spit in his face I Then over at last to elegant Prance Where skeletons lie in Death's lonfr trance I would take him out of liis pen of logs, ' dfcedlum slow to the starving dogs i |