War Song – Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

Sing a song o’ Hempire 

Mother’s took a fit, 

Nasty Germans buildin’ ships, 

An’ never mentioned it. 

Buildin’ beastly warships, 

Quite a tidy few; 

Mother’s got an awful start 

Baby’s got it too. 
The King was in the Customs House, 

But couldn’t find a penny ; 

The Lords were at their country seats 

And didn’t offer any; 

A millyun paupers mooned about 

With nothin’ much to eat, 

When down comes Australyer 

With a Dreadnought fer the fleet. 

Sing a song o’ Warships, 

‘Orrid ole Bulow, 

Layin’ down ‘is Dreadnoughts 

An’ didn’t let us know 

Didn’t advertise it, 

Till the Cablegram 

Spread the awful tidings 

An’ the Empire shouted, ‘Damn!’ 
Sing a song o’ Hempire, 

Mother’s up a tree; 

But the Melbourne Stock exchange 

‘As swore to set ‘er free. 

Does the German caitiff 

Build upon the sly? 

Then seventeen suburban may’rs 

Will know the reason why! 
Seventeen suburban may’rs 

Of the Bulldog Breed 

Fly to succor Hingland 

In her hour of need. 

What of ‘Constant Reader’? 

‘Pro Bono Publico’? 

Will ‘Subscriber’ see old Hingland 

Flabbergasted? No!! 
A reeiy, trooly battleship, 

With guns an’ things galore, 

And splendid sails of calico 

From MacMillan’s store 

The Stock Exchange will float it 

On a sea of gush. 

Wot’s two millyun quid to us? 

We don’t care a rush! 
(But – whisper – little mother, 

If, later on, some day, 

We want ter sorter float a loan, 

To ‘elp us on our way 

Borrer of it back, like 

After wot ‘as passed, 

Don’t you go an’ crool our pitch, 

Like you did the last.) 
Sing a song o’ Britain’s fleet 

(‘Ow the Tories raged!) 

That’s goin’ to guard Australyer 

(If not otherwise engaged). 

Sing of ‘Umpty Dumpty 

‘Im that ‘ad the fall. 

Rob Australian Peter 

To pay old Hinglish Paul. 
Sing o’ topsy-turvey; 

Sing of inside-out, 

Of back-to-front and upside-down 

An’ t’other way about. 

Spend ten bloomin’ millyun, 

Buy yer ships galore, 

An’ send them all to Hingland 

To guard Australyer’s shore. 
Sing a song o’ Hempire! 

We’ve got ter guard ‘the heart.’ 

If it gets a limb lopped off, 

That ain’t a vital part. 

Learn ter think Imperially 

Shriek with courage grim 

Fer ‘the heart’ must be protected 

Tho’ it’s tough if we’re the limb.

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