SONG OF THE SUBMARINE.

Wanganui Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15189, 9 April 1917, Page 6

SONG OF THE SUBMARINE.

(BY JACK VINCENT.) I’m the finished tool of a blood-fed ghoul, A triumph of fiendish skill; In hate I am hurled at a startled world To slaughter and maim at will. For the cunning works wherein murder lurks. That my outer casings bind. Epitomise all that is mean and small lu a crafty, craven mind. I choose for my mark some gallant bark When I loose the bolts of Pate; My dynamos whirr with an angry purr— The snarl of a nation’s hate. I Vanish all hope, and I throw no rope To the struggling, drowning wretch ; But I laugh with glee o’er the crimsoned sea As he sinks with arras a-stretch. Where the fevered moan and the wounded groan, Sans pity and sans remorse, There I train my guns for my hellish Huns, To shatter the brave Red Cross. What matter to me if I strew the sea With the starving children’s food? The despairing cry that goes up on high Agrees with my master’s mood. So I sneak and wait off the harbours’ gate. By the murky waters screened: Thus I work the will of my master Bill, High priest of the great arch fiend.