Volume 150 — TO THE PRO-SHIRKERS.

You that in civilian lobbies, While the battle-thunder rolls, Hug your little party hobbies, So to save your little souls, Treating England's deadly peril like a topic for the polls; Half of you—the record's written— Lately strode to Downing Street And for love of Little Britain Wallowed at the Premier's feet, Urging him to check the wanton waste of our superfluous Fleet. Had your passionate prayer been granted And the Kaiser got his way, Teuton crushers might be planted On our hollow tums to-day, And a grateful foe be asking what you want for traitors' pay. Disappointed with the Navy, You in turn were keen about Putting Thomas in the gravy, Leaving Thomas up the spout, Lest if adequately aided he should wipe the strafers out. Well, our memories may be rotten, Yet they'll stick to you all right; Not so soon shall be forgotten Those whose hearts were fixed more tight On the salvage of a fetish than the winning of the fight. When the Bosches bite the gutter And we let our tongues go loose, Franker words I hope to utter In the way of free abuse, But at present I am badly hampered by the party truce.