Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3827/Father Wilhelm

by C. L. Graves

FATHER WILHELM.

"You are bold, Father Wilhelm," the young man said;
 "Your moustache, too, is fiercer than mine;
But I'm tempted to ask by the size of your head,
 Do you really suppose you're divine?"

"In my youth," said his father, "you probably know
 That I held the most orthodox views;
But since I have hypnotized Harnack and Co.
 I simply believe what I choose."

"You are bold," said the youth, "as I've mentioned before,
 You you frequently talk through your hat;
For you told us the English were worthless in war;
 Pray what was the reason of that?"

"In my earlier days," said his sire," through and through
 I studied that decadent race,
And in failing to prove that my forecast was true
 They have covered themselves with disgrace."

"You are bold," said the youth, "and the Nietzschean creed
 Cries, Down with the humble and meek;'
Yet the sack of Louvain made your bosom to bleed;
 Why were you so painfully weak?"

"In my youth," said his father, "I studied the Arts
 With a zeal that no force could restrain;
And the love of mankind which that study imparts
 Has made me unduly humane."

"You were bold," said the youth, "but it seems to be clear
 That you're losing your grit and your fire;
And, if I may whisper the hint in your ear,
 Don't you think that you ought to retire?"

"I've answered three questions," the Kaiser replied,
 "That might battle the wit of a Zancig;
I'm tired of your talk and I'm sick of your 'side':
 Be off, or I'll send you to Danzig."

 

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