The Sons of the Suburbs |
The sons of the suburbs were carefully bred And quite unaccustomed to strife; The lessons they learned in the books they had read Had taught them the value of life. From Erith to Ealing they cherished a feeling That battle and slaughter were sin; From Hendon to Tooting they didn't like shooting And did not intend to begin. If the clergyman's daughter drinks nothing but water She's certain to finish on gin The tribes of the Teutons were otherwise trained, And accustomed to bloodshed from birth. Their ministers preached and their masters maintained That they had only one duty on earth, And what they were for was sanguineous war The rest didn't matter a damn. Being also intent on culture, they went For the voters of Wanstead and Ham; But reading the name on the tin of the same Doesn't give you the taste of the jam. The sons of the suburbs were firm but polite; Each rose in his place with a gun And a live bayonet to express his regret At the actions of Herman the Hun. It likewise appears they flung bombs round his ears, Which caused a percentage of slain, And finding it sport, I regret to report, They did it again and again. If the wife of the vicar never touched liquor, Look out when she finds the champagne. The sons of the suburbs awoke to the fact That fighting has points of its own, As giving a spice their existence had lacked So they rarely left Herman alone. They were young it was true, and the business was new, But youth is the key to all arts, That's why a beginner's so often a winner At capturing trenches or hearts. If the churchwarden's wife never danced in her life She'll kick off your hat when she starts. There are things in the breast of mankind which are best In darkness and secrecy hid; For you never can tell, when you've opened a hell, How soon you can put back the lid. Now Herman's annoyed with East Finchley and Croyd- On, Penge, Tottenham, Bromley and Kew. It wasn't their fault they commited assault But the rest, I'll leave it to you. If you and your friend never go on a bend It's Bow-street and gaol when you do. |