WHEN THE DETIE WAS SICK

Wanganui Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15127, 23 January 1917, Page 2

WHEN THE DETIE WAS SICK

A VINCENT NOTE. Aatrjde the crimson war'map, from your lofty point of view, You deign to offer Peace to those you cannot well subduei. In mercy to Humanity you’d sheathe your dripping sword, Postpone your modest aim to be the planet’s overloard. Your chivalry exceeds your grace! Magnanimous, indeed! When Satan got the belly-ache he soon reversed his creed. Afraid to be the Devil, he resolved to be a saint; Alas! the cloven hoof betrayed his old Satanic taint. You’ve bitten oft more war map than your royal fangs can chew— Too' greedy to relinquish, now you don’t know what to do. You seek a peace to suit you, from behind a loaded gun! Just what might be expected from a Hohenzoller-hun! But we* doubt your bona fldes—-de-spise your kingly word! We are dead off “scraps of paper”— that notion is absurd! We have given you a hearing, have listened to your plea, Now who’s to be your surety? And what’s your guarantee? Your God? His altar’s sprinkled with our tender infants’ blood! Your creed? The hellish dictrines taught by Nietzsche’s brotherhood! Your Honour? Treaties broken by a royal charlatan! Yourself? The dismal failure of a would-be- Superman! You want the coast of Flanders, with a chunk of Prance thrown To rob you of your colonies would be a mortal sin; The only “map” at present we are likely to concede Is Hel or St. Helena for the kultur of your breed. —Jack Vincent.