The House is crammed: tier beyond tier they grin 
And cackle at the Show, while prancing ranks 
Of harlots shrill the chorus, drunk with din; 
`We?re sure the Kaiser loves our dear old Tanks!? 

I?d like to see a Tank come down the stalls,
Lurching to rag-time tunes, or `Home, sweet Home?, 
And there?d be no more jokes in Music-halls 
To mock the riddled corpses round Bapaume.