Thoughts after Talking to a Fellow Immigrant

Wide-world travelled Dick, Harry, Tom,
Could not stand the phrase . . . "Bastard Pom,"
Reckoned Alan, Keith, who said Jokers, Sheilas,
Ignorant, narrow-minded New Zealand Bleeders.

You would never believe it however,
They now invariably sit together
In the train, and in silence, stopped at stations
All agree the wharf's a bloody League of Nations.

Wilhelm, Hans and blonde-haired Jan,
Another load of lousy Dutchmen.
"Should never have them," says Tom, Harry, Dick,
"Throw 'em out" . . . "The great big stick."

A year ago. Their mental pain,
Satisfaction to inflict again?
Did they not yesterday approving nod?
All men are equal within sight of God.