Punch/Volume 147/Issue 3834/The Imperial Infanticide

by C. L. Graves

THE IMPERIAL INFANTICIDE.

It was a mighty Emperor
 Of ancient pedigree
Who said, "The future of our race
 Lies on the rolling sea!"
And straightway laboured to fulfil
 His royal guarantee.

And the Day had dawned, for which
 He long had toiled and planned,
Unto his Grand High Admiral
 He issued his command:
"Go forth, and smite the enemy
 Upon his native strand."

Sailing by night and veiled in mist,
 His swiftest ships of war
Rained death on two defenceless towns
 For half an hour or more,
Till they had slain and wounded babes
 And women by the score.

The Fatherland was filled with joy
 By this heroic deed;
It gloated o'er the slaughtered babes
 Öf Albion's hated breed;
And Iron Crosses fell in showers
 On those who'd made them bleed.

But honest neutrals everywhere
 Were sickened and dismayed;
The Turk, not squeamish as a rule,
 No special glee betrayed;
And even Mr. Bernard Shaw
 Failed to defend the raid!

Then more in sorrow than in wrath
 The Emperor made moan:
"Though martyred and misunderstood
 I tread my way alone,
At least I have the sympathy
 Of God on His high throne."

Then from the pillar and the cloud
 Came accents clear and plain:
"The Massacre of Innocents
 Passes the guilt of Cain;
And those who sin with Herod earn
 His everlasting stain."

 

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