The Knoxville independent. [volume] (Knoxville, Tenn.) 1894-current, 1918-09-28

udu SnellS, ulreCLS inc Zeppelin, STeeIS
joyously the submarine, chuckles with
delight that his chosen people have in
their hands the weapons whereby to
impose their will-which is his will
on the world More Of this peculiar
German god anon. Through this well
ter of harsh German poetry runs only
"a roar of delight in German strength. a
great satisfied sigh that now at last
the world Is to feel that strength.
Here and there, as though by way of
afterthought, there is bit of camou-
flage as to who started the war. Be-
fore going on to picture the downfall
of the enemy one bard pauses to re-
mark:
War! War! Awake! The French have
crossed the Rhine,
And Cossacks swarm upon our eastern
line.
These obvious lies are not dwelt on,
however. Probably not even the poet
expected anybody to believe them
They were just thrown in as sop to
the diplomats at the Wilhelmstrasse.
Public opinion, which had been taken
charge of by the authorities, was "ver,
boten" to forget these things. And it
was added, in faint voice here and
there: 1--WE did not wish this war"
One is reminded, by way of aside, of
the excellent Australian cartoon which
pictured the kaiser sitting, head in
hands, In the company of the crown
prince. II did not want this war"
NO" says the crown prince in lucid
moment, ut was quite different war
you wanted, wasn't it, papa?"
But coming back to the poets, it may
be said that while at rare intervals
they remembered to make note of
the fact that the war was u complete
and unpleasant surprise to Germany,
their whole attitude was that now that
it had come, they were delighted. They
dreamed of blood, they sang Of it. At
last the weapons Germany had been
fondling so long were to find mark.
Rudolf Herzog wrote a dainty little
biiiiiS5b ul SihSo IllS EOIAICIo was
evidently somewhere in the rear him
self-and the refrain of each verse
ran:
What though the earth of hell be full,
Our steel shall cleave the foeman's skull.
Such was the picture that inspired
the frenZIed poets, the gentlemen Of
the pen. A soul-satisfying, delectable
picture of German steel deep in the
foeman's skull while rich. delicious
blood was everywhere.
England With the Allies.
While they were in the midst of CORY
composition, their eyes In fine frenzy
rolling, England entered the war on
the side of the allies. This was dis
tinctly verboten, and it upset the Ger
man plan horribly. England was to
stand aside until Russia and France
were annihilated, and then be wiped
out in her turn. Anyone who has ever
been in Germany knows the fury of
German whose system is upset. Imme-
diately the mad poets grew madden
yet, and the recipient of all their poi.
soned darts was poor old England.
The anger of a German when things
are going as he wished is not pretty
thing, but the anger Of the same man
when things are going wrong is enough
to make God tremble.
In this dark hour when all Germany
was sputtering with fury so terrible
it seemed words could not be found to
express it, Herr Ernst Lissauer came
forward and earned the nations graft
tude by penning his famous "Hymr
Of Hate" In our country we are all
familiar with this dainty little thing,
which ends:
So, what care we for French or Russ7
It's shot for shot when they shoot
at us.
We fight our battles with bronze and
steel
And when we stop we shall see you kneel!
It's you we hate with a lasting hate
Nor will we ahate one little of hate
Hate by water and hate by land,
Hate Of the head and hate of the hand.
Hate of artisan, hate of king,
Hate which seventy millions fling;
One love they know, one hate they know,
They know but one, one only foe:
England
Little Ernst, cropping around In the
madhouse, seems to have found words
that pretty well express his meaning
In fact, he seems to have put across in
fairly effective shape the idea that the
Germans don't care much for the Eng.
lish, whichever way you look at 1t.
But If he hated before, what must
have been his fury at the reception his
outbreak got in England7 Instead OF
covering In fear, laugh went up from
the British isles that was heard round
the world. The Tommies in the
trenches, treated to German con.
cert, shouted across: "Sing us comic
song-sing us the 'Ymn of Hyte.'" And
it is recorded in Boyd Cables BE
tween the Lines" that Cockney regi.
ments, to while away idle hours, have
been known to sing variations:
Hyte of the cart and byte of the ant
90 do we byte to bet the band:
Hinglandl
~~~~-~~~-~~~~~~~~e~~