Page:Canadian poems of the great war.djvu/134

 Tom Machines

We re nigh enough for our little ones, To reach and drop The Huns !

We ll do them dead with the spatter of lead, And the spit of our little artillery! While the big ones down below

Go thud thud thud But O that smashing below !

Shrieks and groans, And the decks are slimy with blood, While stark bits of flesh and bones Slip senseless in the sea !

Blood !

But what care we! High up with our little artillery

We have our part to play : So fire away, my fighting top ! Hard hit we know We soon may go, Already the mast begins to sway, But fire away and do them dead, Do them dead until we drop Smacking in the sea!

Maskee !

Across the heaving bitterness Fighting yet we call to death

And this is life ! Life to the final stress ! O we are the toppling gods no less

Battling hell !

In the feel of eternal life no less Laughing at hell ! Tho now for us

Vast in one lightning moment of collapse All time may blast itself to nothingness!

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