There is a Jappy land
Far, far away,
Where Art they understand;
None more than they.
Now in fair battle's ring
They've pummelled poor PING-WING,
All men their praises sing
Who've won the day.
Bright in that Jappy land
Beams every eye.
But, though their pluck be grand,
Bar-bar-i-ty
Their choicest gifts will mar,
Blood stains their rising star,
Foul slaughter is not war.
Fie, Jappy, fie!
* * * * *