Shipbuilders

THE German people reared them
An idol made of wood;
And Hindenburg before them
Lifelike and stupid stood.

To clothe him all in iron
And thus his soul express,
With nails and spikes they covered
His wooden nakedness.

And when they, thus had clothed him
All in a suit of mail,
Still came they, wild-eyed, looking
For space to drive a nail.
Whenever Teuton airmen
Slay boys and girls at play,
Or U-boats, drowning babies,
Create a holiday.

Then, gathering round their statue,
A happy German throng
Drive nails into the idol
To make him still more strong.

Avenge the babes, shipbuilders,
That on the seas have died;
Avenge the little children
Murdered for Wilhelm’s pride.
Come, gather at the shipyards,
And let your hammers ring,
For more than ships and cargoes
Waits on your fashioning.

Come, gather at the shipyards;
With every bolt you drive
Bethink you `tis the Kaiser
Whose brutish head you rive.

Come, gather at the shipyards,
And swing with might and main;
`Tis Tirpitz and the Crown Prince
That you to-day have slain.

Come, gather at the shipyards,
And heat the metal hot,
For it is Bethmann Hollweg
You’re boiling in the pot.

Come, gather at the shipyards,—
And when the day is done,
You’ve spent it in driving spikes,
In Hindernburg the Hun.

Come, gather at the shipyards,
And toil with healthy hate,
For only you can save the world,
The Hun is at the gate.

ARTHUR STANWOOD PIE