“The German Fleet is coming,”
The Sunday papers say,
“And the shell will soon be humming
When they fix upon the Day.”
All the Sunday experts write,
Working very late at night —
“They are coming — they'll be on you any day.”
Though it's very cheery reading,
And we hear it ev'ry week;
Yet the Hun is still unheeding,
And is just as far to seek.
And it seems so unavailing
They should write and tell us so —
If the Hun is shortly sailing,
Could n't some one let him know?
We are ready, and we're waiting,
And we know they're going to fight;
And we're just as good at hating
As the Brainy Ones that write.
But they talk of Information
They have gathered unbeknown —
That “the mighty German Nation
Is a mass of skin and bone.”
And they take their affidavy
That a fight is due at sea:
Dammit — tell the German Navy,
What's the use of telling me?