ON SIGHTING THE ENEMY.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume III, Issue 882, 7 December 1916, Page 6

ON SIGHTING THE ENEMY.

A skit in verse on the German Fleet is published in the "Field," which is unable, however, to identify the author. It describes, in the language of a British bluejacket, the sighting of the enemy, and the manoeuvre adopted before giving battle:— A chucklin' worry sly, And a winkling of his eye. Our Admiral gave orders for to run; And the enemy gave chase. For the Germans, as a race. Have a preference for fighting ten to one. At seven we felt a whiff; At eight it Mowed right stilT; At nine it was blowing half a gale; Rut at ten the waves ran higher Than St. Paul's Cathedral spire, And mv language to describe the same do fail. Just then we heerd a shout. And our Admiral sang out: "Send the signal up to wear about, and close!" Then fore and aft we ran: To his post stood every man; And louder than the storm our cheers arose. We neared them, and took aim, And the word to Fire came; And our volley down the line of battle roared. Rut the German answered not— Not a solitary shot, tint her ensign fluttered down by the board. We were speechless pro'ty nigh. And we couldn't make out for why The sponge they should so quickly up'ards chuck it, Till Rismarck we espied Hangin' pallid o'er the side. And Moltke sitting down beside a bucket. All their gunners, all their stokers, Lay as flat as kitchen pokers. All a groaning from the bottom of their soul; For all their precious crew, Unaccustomed to the Blue, Invalided when the ships began to roll. And thus the battle ended. And the broken peace was mended; And William, when at last he ceased to be, Died a sadder and a wiser, A more circumspect old kaiser, And a member of the Peace Societee.