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That is what makes them call black,

white, white, white.

Just as they often lie, For "state reasons" To maintain that their Might is Right,

-so they try,

right, right.

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"I love little pussy,

Her coat is so warm,
And if I don't hurt her
She'll do me no harm."

(Uncle Sam in a seemingly light mood—but as his song nears its end his face becomes very grave.) LIKE the black eagle, He is a fine bird,


And if I don't cross him

He's not savage, I've heard.

But, as to letting him

Rule my own roost,
And even helping him
Up with a boost;

I confess, I'm afraid

It's not very wise,
For the eagle I own,

Is about of his size.

So I've made up mind,
This ominous thing,

-The black eagle, I mean

Shall be clipped in the wing;

Then if he makes trouble,

Or tries to peck me, I'll get rid of the bird, As quick as may be.

"But how would you do it?"
You ask-I must say
As with vulture or hawk,
There's only one way.

Enough about eagles:

My own comes at call, But this black one, the PrussianI'll watch,- that is all.

"How many days has my baby to play?”


OW many days have the plotters to plot? Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday.


Nobody cares and nobody sees

Where Germans and Hyphens get fat fees.

"If all the world were apple-pie
And all the sea were ink."

["We shall rewrite the word American, to the extent of our power, in terms of our own ethnic complexion.” The Fatherland.]


F all the world were German,
And all the sea their own,
And all Kultur was echt-deutsch,
Would my soul be my own?

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