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"Since the good man, RAMSAY MACDONALD, while touring in the East
Went out to shoot the tiger, that homicidal beast,
The most electrifying humanitarian stunt
Has been my khaki joy-ride along the British Front.
"It wasn't my own suggestion; I went as the Government's guest,
Invited to see how the brass-hats were running the show on the West;
I've never been sweet on soldiers, but I only went for a week,
And it gave me heaps of chances of studying war technique.
"If they really thought to convert me by the loan of a khaki suit,
Or by conferring upon me the right to claim a salute,
It wouldn't at all surprise me, for dullards have always tried
To bribe true men of genius to take the popular side.
"Well, I went, I saw, I 'joy-rode,' and my verdict remains the same;
There's no use having a country unless she's always to blame;
For of all the appalling prospects that human life can lend
The worst is to be unable to play the candid friend.
"Men talk of France, the Martyr; of her precious blood outpoured;
Of the innocent helpless victims of the brutal Hunnish horde;
Presuming, insensate idiots, to label as beast and brute
The race that has always held me in the very highest repute!
"While France has failed completely, at least in those later days,
To show appreciation of my Prefaces and Plays;
It wouldn't be therefore worthy of a genuine superman
To show undue compassion for the sorrows of 'Marianne.
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