The Hate Of Hans

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Title:     The Hate Of Hans
Author: Abner Cosens [More Titles by Cosens]

April, 1915

I hate dot teufel, Johnnie Bull,
(Der Kaiser says I must)
Mit rage mine heart is filled so full
Sometime I tink I'll bust.

Vot pisness he mit horse and gun,
Dot channel shtream to cross?
Vot matter for de tings ve done?
Der Kaiser is de boss.

Dose English, yaw, I tells you true!
Dey spoil der Kaiser's plans,
Shoost cause ve march de Belgium through
Dey kill us Sherman mans.

Mine brudder's dead, already, soon,
Mine sister is von spy,
Mine cousin rides de big balloon,
Dot floats up in de sky.

My poys--dot story I can't wrote,
I lose them, von--two--tree,
Ven English teufels sink dose boat,
Vot sail der untersee.

Mineself, I learn de English talk
Von time in Milwaukee,
I hang around de Antwerp dock,
Und hear vot I can see.

Dey tink dey'll shtarve us Shermans oudt,
Not yet, already, blease,
Ve still haf lots of saur-kraut,
Und goot limburger cheese.

Mit blenty peers unt blenty shmokes,
Und rye bread mixed mit sand,
Dis is enough for Sherman folks
Dat luf de faderland.

Ve'll tear dot English heart oudt yet
Mit eagle's beak and claws;
Shoost now ve can't to London get,
I don't know vy pecause.

Ve should haf been dere long ago,
Mit dose machine dot flies,
But tings seem gooing britty slow,
Berhaps der Kaiser lies.

[The end]
Abner Cosens's poem: Hate Of Hans

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