The Heart of the Dove
Say, Bo, this little Yewropean war
It grieves our gloryus nation to the core
The vurry core of its great, strang, red heart,
We're tur-ble sore:
That's what.
We got
A reel sawft heart.
Naw, son! we air not takin' any part.
We figgered that ahl out, right from the start.
The great american nation stan's aside:
She keeps apart
An' jaws,
Becaws
We gat our pride.
But don't yew figger ahn no fancy paly
With Uncle Sam; he's ready for th efray.
An' wance that 'Murkan eagle's screech is heard
Watch out! An', say,
Geewhiz!
He is
Some bird!
He is some eagle, yew kin take my word.
If wance that great, fierce heart of his was sturred
Aw, shucks! that little Yewropean stunt
Would look ab-surd!
If he
Cast free
You'd see some hunt!
When wance that Bird o' Freedom hit the front
Why, Gee! them dinky ings would have to shunt!
Old Yewrope would be right clean off the map!
I put it blunt:
That lot
Would not
Put up a scrap.
Wance we cut loose - Aw, Hully Gee! the gap
In Yewrope's rank 'ud make tyhem howl for pap.
We'd wipe the airth out of the Kasmic Plan
An' on the map
This ball
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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Added by Poetry Lover
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