Volume 153 — "HE-WHO-MUST-BE-OBEYED."

SIR ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP, He is a formidable chap; He says the best of this year's fashions Is to obey his rule for rations. To every man and every maid Of every sort of social grade, Sir ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP. He is—to put the thing with snap— He-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed. Sir ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP, He simply doesn't care a rap For any one—his only passion's Compelling us to keep our rations; Downrightly he demands our aid; He will not have the troops betrayed. Sir ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP, He is—the right man in the gap— He-Who-MUST-Be-Obeyed. Sir ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP, He says the way to change the map— The way that all of us can smash Huns— Is simply sticking to our rations; Whereas the Hun will have us flayed Unless the waste of food is stayed. Sir ARTHUR YAPP, Sir ARTHUR YAPP, He is right through this final lap— He-Who-MUST-Be-Obeyed. W.B.