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Poem

Big bully Belgium,
Breathing blood and flame,
Crafty as a serpent
In a cunning game,
Sent a note to England,
Sent a note to France,
‘Let us crush the Fatherland
While we have the chance!’

Poor little Germany,
Gentle land of peace,
Seeking the Millennium,
When armaments shall cease ;
Rather grieved than angry,
Called her sons to fight,
To protect their Fatherland,
As was only right.

Hurry with the whitewash,
Pour it out in streams !
Bleach the ravaged country,
Louvain, Antwerp, Rheims !
Belgium concocted war,
Thus deserves her fate !
That’s the blackest Teuton lie
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