Thomas O'Hagan

Achilles awoke in his ancient tomb Hard by the coast of Troy; He rattled his armor now full of dust

"The body of 'Bobs' then lay in state until five o'clock, when it was interred in a crypt near-by those containing the bodies of Nelson and Wellington." - Press Despatch. Who is he that cometh to join our mighty dead? Is it "Bobs" of Kandahar the Empire's armies led?

Gather the harvest though reaped in death, Under the pale, pale moon; For the lilies that joyed in the breath of morn

What shall the coming year bring forth, O Lord, who rulest the land? For the navies of the sea and air

"A German will teach Irish at the University of Illinois, beginning in February, when Dr. Kuno E. Meyer of the University of Berlin will become visiting professor of the Celtic language and literature." - Press Despatch. Go back, dear Kuno, to the Poles and Alsatians, And teach them the language your nation has robbed;

All day the guns belched fire and death And filled the hours with gloom; The fateful music smote the sky

A glory lights the skies of Flanders Where the blood-stained fields lie bare, Where the clouds of war have gathered,

A shrine, where saints and scholars met And held aloft the torch of truth, Lies smouldering 'neath fair Brabant's skies,

Through the vigils deep of the sable night A mother sits in grief alone, For her sons have gone to the battle front

"A Canadian lieutenant writes his mother from the front that what he most needs for the winter is good warm socks." - Press Despatch. Yes, Wilhelm, sure you'll get it, The storm is o'er your head;

I cleave the air through the murky night, High o'er the forests and sleeping towns; Below me drifts the shimmering light -

Do you hear the call of our Mother, From over the sea, from over the sea? The call to her children, in every land;

In the morn of the world, at the daybreak of time, When Kingdoms were few and Empires unknown, God searched for a Ruler to sceptre the land,

Across the waste, across the snow, O the pity!    O the pity! Past sentinel of friend and foe

The Kaiser is seeking "a place in the Sun" But I fear he'll have to wait, Till another eclipse has dulled its face

O, the Kaiser's bhoys are marching, "nach Paris" they are going, But they've sthopped to rest a minit at the Marne and at the Meuse; And the Gordons and the Ministers are thryin' to entertain them,

What are the Kaiser's favorite poems? Well, now, you tax me hard: I know the Kaiser's favorite drink

(New version.) I'm not going to Tipperary for I've better work to do, I am dreaming of a new device to catch each German crew;

When the German troops were marching with the Uhlans far ahead, The objective point being Paris, as the Berlin wireless said, There was trouble in the Louvre, 'mong the paintings on the walls,