On Patrol. Bower John Graham

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!"

      That is the tale as told to me

      By a friend from Beatty's Fleet,

      When over a glass (or even two), he swore to me that the tale was true,

      In a Tavern in Regent Street.

      A NIGHTMARE

      THE Council of Democracy around the table drew

      (The table was a beauty – it was polished – it was new,

      Twenty feet from side to side and half a mile in length,

      Built of rosewood and mahogany of double extra strength.

      The C in C had gone to jail to answer to the charge

      Of saying what he thought about Democracy at large.

      So the Council of Democracy had taken on the job,

      After voting the removal of his Autocratic nob.

      And the table was erected in a calm secluded spot,

      Well away from any trenches, lest a voter should be shot).

      And the Chairman raised a hammer and he hit the board a whack,

      No one paid the least attention, so he put the hammer back.

      Then he read the lengthy minutes of the gathering before,

      To the ever-growing murmur of the Democratic snore.

      And he put before the meeting all the questions of the day,

      Such as "Shorter hours for Delegates, and seven times the pay."

      With a minor matter for the end – "What shall the Council do

      About this fellow Mackensen? they say he's coming through

      With a hundred thousand hirelings of the Hohenzollern Line,

      And breaking all the Union Rules by working after nine."

      At this a group of Delegates departed for the door,

      To consult with their constituents the conduct of the War.

      The remainder started voting on the Delegation Pay,

      And agreed with unanimity to seven quid a day.

      They decided that unless the Germans travelled very fast,

      There'd be time for all the speeches – so they took the matter last.

      But just as Mr Blithers to the Chairman had addressed

      His opinion – he departed for the Country of the Blest,

      (Both in body and in spirit to the heavens he departed,

      And the Council looked dispirited, though hardly broken-hearted).

      All the delegates were wondering from whence the shell had come;

      One arose to ask a question – Bang!! – he went to Kingdom Come.

      "Mr Chairman," cried a Delegate. "A point of order! I

      Don't believe the Huns are coming – it's an Autocratic lie.

      I shall move the Army question do be left upon the Table,

      And I'm going home to England just as fast as I am able."

      Then he gathered up his papers, and was pushing back his chair,

      When a heavy high explosive sent him sailing in the air.

      The Chairman beat his hammer on the table all the while,

      Yelling oaths and calling "Order" in a Democratic style.

      But the Delegates were started on the question of the War,

      (So as not to waste the speeches that they'd written out before).

      And the Council of Democracy – a thousand fluent tongues —

      Let the Germans have it hearty from its Democratic lungs.