THE GERMAN LESSON
WE sit within this moth, She, Fraulein, reads to me Ballads of German wars And German chivalry.
Down from their golden frames My Father's fathers look, Right proud to illustrate My History book.
Their wars were waged in blood, As Honour still insists, Won not by " priests " and " nuns," Fourth-rate Fifth Columnists!
What thinks she as she reads? Where is her German mind? With some sweet German lad She left behind?
Or is it true that in
A German prison camp Her brothers lie, and weep, And read Mein Kampf?
What does she think of me?
Our aeroplanes go by, And as time ticks away, Her dear ones die.
From gaudy golden frames My grandfathers look down— Oh, she should blush to see Tradition's frown!
Our friends, our men, our boys, Go forth with Death to Death, Wounded, to deal a wound With their last breath.
Our blood, our ways of life, Our ships, our souls, our lands Grapple in Hell--we two Smile and shake hands!
DIANA JAMES.
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