THE Council of Democracy around the table drew

(The table was a beauty—it was polished—it was new,

Twenty feet from side to side and half a mile in length,

Built of rosewood and mahogany of double extra strength.

The C in C had gone to jail to answer to the charge

Of saying what he thought about Democracy at large.

So the Council of Democracy had taken on the job,

After voting the removal of his Autocratic nob.

And the table was erected in a calm secluded spot,

Well away from any trenches, lest a voter should be shot).

And the Chairman raised a hammer and he hit the board a whack,

No one paid the least attention, so he put the hammer back.

Then he read the lengthy minutes of the gathering before,

To the ever-growing murmur of the Democratic snore.

And he put before the meeting all the questions of the day,

Such as "Shorter hours for Delegates, and seven times the pay."

With a minor matter for the end—"What shall the Council do

About this fellow Mackensen? they say he's coming through

With a hundred thousand hirelings of the Hohenzollern Line,

And breaking all the Union Rules by working after nine."

At this a group of Delegates departed for the door,

To consult with their constituents the conduct of the War.

The remainder started voting on the Delegation Pay,

And agreed with unanimity to seven quid a day.

They decided that unless the Germans travelled very fast,

There'd be time for all the speeches—so they took the matter last.

But just as Mr Blithers to the Chairman had addressed

His opinion—he departed for the Country of the Blest,

(Both in body and in spirit to the heavens he departed,

And the Council looked dispirited, though hardly broken-hearted).

All the delegates were wondering from whence the shell had come;

One arose to ask a question—Bang!!—he went to Kingdom Come.

"Mr Chairman," cried a Delegate. "A point of order! I

Don't believe the Huns are coming—it's an Autocratic lie.

I shall move the Army question do be left upon the Table,

And I'm going home to England just as fast as I am able."

Then he gathered up his papers, and was pushing back his chair,

When a heavy high explosive sent him sailing in the air.

The Chairman beat his hammer on the table all the while,

Yelling oaths and calling "Order" in a Democratic style.

But the Delegates were started on the question of the War,

(So as not to waste the speeches that they'd written out before).

And the Council of Democracy—a thousand fluent tongues—

Let the Germans have it hearty from its Democratic lungs.

Through the bursting of the shrapnel they were constant to the end,—

Kept referring to each other as "My honourable friend."

And in groups of ten and twenty they were blasted into space

By the disrespectful cannon of an Autocratic race,

Till the gathering had dwindled to an incoherent few,

Who were still explaining volubly what England ought to do,

When the cannon ceased abruptly and they heard the Germans cheer,

And a sergeant entered roaring, "Himmel, Ach! was Schmutz ist hier!

Mask your faces, pig-dogs, quickly—all the room is full of gas.

VorwÄrts, Carl der KindermÖrder—use your bayonet, Saxon ass!"

Faithful to the last, the Chairman, spying strangers all around,

Told them they were out of order; hardly seemed to touch the ground.

Told them of his best intentions, how with love of them he burned,

Shouted as the bayonet caught him, "Ow! the Council is adjourned!"