The Sixth Columnist 1943

WITH Boche and Bolshie "Up the Pole"
"Appeasement" off its perch,
The Bull-Frog in his Latin hole
Left crockless in the lurch,

With Nazis slaying East end West
To spread their kult of Peace=
Their Vaterland a prey to pest
Of Hitler's brain disease.

With Jappie chewing "China" bits
Far more than he can lump
And throwing chronic colic fits
The greedy, giddly chump!

With Indians touring Lands O' West
In search of civ'lis'd ease;
To find too late that "Home is best"
with no body to please;

With Muslim breaking Hindu pate
And vice versa too,
With potentate of native State
A tiger or cuckoo,

With Gandhi caged safe in quod,
Away from pals and mates,
To Meditate upon hi God-
On soya beans and dates

The talk in train or tram or bus
Is all of war and gore!
To ME, why, all this war-time fuss
Is but a beastly bore!

For what care I for Europe's war
Or India's dream "Swaraj"?
A host of Hitlers may not mar
My own, my PERSONAL Raj!

Let Britain boast of battleships,
The Boche of blitzkriegs brag,
Let Europe's dire dictatorships
Prove John Bull's reddest rag;

Let India e'er in fatal clutch
Of famine, pest and best
Suffer a-fresh as n'er so much
Through squabbling priest and priest.

Let patriots pop in and out
Of cabinet and jail,
Let Shibboleth and slogans shout
Drown the ryot's wall;

Let 'Parties', 'wings', 'sabhas' and 'blacks'
Revel in plots and cliques!
Let congressites pull up their socks
At risk of bursting breeks;

Let "Leaguers" spout of "Palkistans"
With tongues in brazen cheeks,
Let "Crackistans" and "Talkistans"
Absorb political freaks;

To ME, to who Earth itself is
But land surrounding ME
MY food, MY bed, domestic bliss,
MY job with guarentee

Of pension when I'm old and gray,
Are all that ME worry!
Thus whiche'er way this world may sway,
On velvet is THIS ME!