Loot!

When Blucher helped us make an end Of Bonaparte, the common foe,

He came to England as a friend,

About a hundred years ago.

The sight of London fired his breast,

He gazed with eagerness and wonder,

And, brimming with Teutonic zest,

He cried, "Oh, what a town to plunder! " Der Tag, however, was not yet.

A century has passed away.

Blucher has settled Nature's debt,

But his example lives to-day And kindles in the German mind An altar that there's no uprooting,

Where love of power is enshrined,

Together with a love of looting.

They spoil and pillage, smash and swill ;

And helpless cities they have racked Must, willy nilly, pay the bill For the delight of being sacked,

That motto "Blood and Iron" is done ;

A newer one must be enscrolled ;

The carte de visite of the Hun Should now be printed, " Blood and Gold."