The House is crammed: tier beyond tier they grin And cackle at the Show, while prancing ranks Of harlots shrill the chorus, drunk with din; `We?re sure the Kaiser loves our dear old Tanks!? I?d like to see a Tank come down the stalls, Lurching to rag-time tunes, or `Home, sweet Home?, And there?d be no more jokes in Music-halls To mock the riddled corpses round Bapaume.