FROM THE GREAT WAR
39
All these are parcel of the wish
I cherish for that royal fish,
If I could work my will sublime,
He'd suffer till the end of time.
I'd never let the Kaiser die,
Although for death he'd often cry,
For punishment for all he's done,
His nose it would forever run,—
A million years on earth he'd stay
And sneeze a million times a day.
Sweet sleep would never find his bed,
All night alone the floor he'd tread,
Death is too good for such a king,
Hay fever would be just the thing!
—Anonymous
