THE CRUISE OF THE SEA SERPENT

And now behold the Merchant Submarine! Only its peeking periscope is seen, But what a cyclorama it reveals To those below! Thru surging seas it steals And vies with dolphins, porpoises and sharks To keep apace with brigantines and barks; And, tho itself unseen, it's proud to show To what low depths a submarine can go. The Cyclops sees as well by night as day; Its father, Neptune, gives it right of way: Amphibious, it rides the Ocean's crest, Or in its sunken Gardens takes its rest. This new-type boat we designate as It Because no other pronoun seems to fit. No water-laden craft could be a He, Nor one unspoken could be rated She. The Germans call it unter: O. U. Cargo! They aim to close the bar on the embargo. Beneath the waves no lurching doth it feel But speeds its course upon an even keel. With duplex engines and a double crew, (It's "manned" by mermaids when it's hid from view). It scoffs at dangers, tho they lurk around, And shuts its eye to perils that abound. There's scant spare space, but still its ribs enfold A priceless cargo in its shallow hold. Past hostile ships into a neutral haven, It comes up smiling with all flags a wavin'. But now these "Cargo Craft" throw off disguise And cut our neutral throats: it's no surprise That dastards, who as "scraps of paper" rate Their solemn Treaties, would thus lie in wait And murder innocents without emotion, Making a shambles of the outraged Ocean. Now lashed to fury, see the waves rebel And sweep these Prussian Pirates down to Hell! No longer neutral the Avenging Sword Is in our hands to smite the Hun-hound horde. The God of Joshua, in righteous wrath Will, in its flight thru empyrean path, Command the Sun to stop: it is His will! Till Kultur be effaced—and not until.