Go back, dear Kuno, to the Poles and Alsatians,
And teach them the language your nation has robbed;
Piece out their dreams of new glory and freedom;
Bring joy to the hearts where the children have sobbed.
We love the old Celtic tongue, vibrant with music,
As it speaks to our hearts thro’ the chords of long years,
But we do n't want your lessons, though laden with “Kultur,”
From a land where Alsatians and Poles are in tears.
Go back, Herr Professor, your mission is ended,
For, though your gifts are many, you are “ausgespielt”;
Go back and receive your “Kreuz von Eisen,”
For we do n't like the way that you're “ausgebild't.”
The stars that burn with the true light of freedom,
In this giant new world, with its endless day,
Have nothing in common with your satellite planets,
And care not to shine on your Eagle's prey.