Volume 146 — NEWS FROM THE FRONT.

There was peace at first in the tight-packed tin, Content in the greasy gloom, Till the whisper ran there were some therein With more than their share of room; And I saw the combat from start to end, I heard the rage and the roar, For I was the special The Daily Friend Sent out to the Sardine War. The courage was high on every face As the wronged ones took their stand On the right of all to a resting-place In a tinfoil fatherland; Yes, each one, knowing he fought for home, Cast craven fear to the gales, And the oil was whipped to a creamy foam By the lashing of frenzied tails. You may think that peace has been quite assured When you've packed them tight inside, But the sardine's spirit is far from cured When you salt his outer hide; They gave no quarter, they scorned to yield, To a fish they died in the press, And, dying, lay on the stricken field In an oleaginous mess.