You boast no “Tree,”

No painted shell your Natal Cell,

Your Pedigree,

Neatly displayed, reads simply, “Made

In Germany.”

What do I care

Tho’ to fresh seed you pay no heed—

Since on Plain Air

You gayly feast? Of that at least

I have to spare.

You do not pour

From your wide bill a gladsome trill,

Thanks be, therefore!

The best of tune, repeated, soon

Becomes a bore!

You simply stare

When I exclaim “Wilhelm” (your name);

You do not care

For William Hohenzollern, tho’

His name you bear.

What would you say

If William the Unsilent, he

Should come your way?

And fume, and pout, and storm—and shout,

“LÈse-MajestÉ!”

’Twould vex his pride

To see you hold that Gift of Gold

To him denied—

“Silence,” the sole and only rÔle

He has not tried.

Fear not his grim,

Imperial ire; no torture dire,

No dungeon dim,

Your fate shall be: This land is free—

At least from him.