(For the music-hall stage.)

Sing a song o' Hempire
   Mother's took a fit,
Nasty Germans buildin' ships,
   An' never mentioned it.
Buildin' beastly warships,
   Quite a tidy few;
Mother's got an awful start
   Baby's got it too.


The King was in the Customs House,
   But couldn't find a penny ;
The Lords were at their country seats
   And didn't offer any;
A millyun paupers mooned about
   With nothin' much to eat,
When down comes Australyer
   With a Dreadnought fer the fleet.


Sing a song o' Warships,
   'Orrid ole Bulow,
Layin' down 'is Dreadnoughts
   An' didn't let us know -
Didn't advertise it,
   Till the Cablegram
Spread the awful tidings
   An' the Empire shouted, "Damn!"


Sing a song o' Hempire,
   Mother's up a tree;
But the Melbourne Stock exchange
   'As swore to set 'er free.
Does the German caitiff
   Build upon the sly?
Then seventeen suburban may'rs
   Will know the reason why!


Seventeen suburban may'rs
   Of the Bulldog Breed
Fly to succor Hingland
   In her hour of need.
What of "Constant Reader"?
   "Pro Bono Publico"?
Will "Subscriber" see old Hingland
   Flabbergasted?  No!!


A reeiy, trooly battleship,
   With guns an' things galore,
And splendid sails of calico
   From MacMillan's store -
The Stock Exchange will float it
   On a sea of gush.
Wot's two millyun quid to us?
   We don't care a rush!


(But - whisper - little mother,
   If, later on, some day,
We want ter sorter float a loan,
   To 'elp us on our way-
Borrer of it back, like -
   After wot 'as passed,
Don't you go an' crool our pitch,
   Like you did the last.)


Sing a song o' Britain's fleet
  ('Ow the Tories raged!)
That's goin' to guard Australyer
   (If not otherwise engaged).
Sing of 'Umpty Dumpty -
   'Im that 'ad the fall.
Rob Australian Peter
   To pay old Hinglish Paul.


Sing o' topsy-turvey;
   Sing of inside-out,
Of back-to-front and upside-down
   An' t'other way about.
Spend ten bloomin' millyun,
   Buy yer ships galore,
An' send them all to Hingland
   To guard Australyer's shore.


Sing a song o' Hempire!
   We've got ter guard "the heart."
If it gets a limb lopped off,
   That ain't a vital part.
Learn ter think Imperially
   Shriek with courage grim
Fer "the heart" must be protected - 
   Tho' it's tough if we're the limb.

"Den"
The Bulletin, 1 April 1909, p9