The grandee pokes his head

above the parapet and cries out

earnestly for war,

it is O.K. for him, stuck as he is,

behind the lines, behind the men,

behind his comfy leather chair

and his idealism enhanced by those foolish to believe;

carry the flag boys, show some of that bulldog

breed spirit that made them whimper

in the South Atlantic, jolly good fun

in April spring, he suggests

knowing the belligerent and the uncompromising will follow

and create havoc in the press,