IS yours the only right?
Is yours the only law?
Must all men bow before
The menace of your might?
And crossing England’s ways
Submit them to her hate,
Who blasts them with a phrase:
“The Hun is at the gate.”
The old commandments stand
For Teuton as for ye,
To nerve his cause and hand
To keep him strong and free.
Again the sword ye draw
That ye have drawn of old,
That profit come of war,
That ye may have and hold
The Seven Seas alone,
The trader’s golden fruit
The while the Teutons groan
Beneath the Cossack knout.
Does not the Teuton leave
His hostages to fate?
Does not the Teuton grieve:
“The Hun is at the gate!”
May not on the Most High
In prayer the Teuton call?
Or is He England’s God
And not the God of all?
The old commandments stand
For Teuton as for ye,
To nerve his cause and hand.
To keep him strong and free.
Is not the Teuton’s goal
The same as that ye claim?
The tears that wring his soul
Are they in him a shame?
The Teuton fights for all
For freedom, culture, right;
Then what if England fall,
The world shall still have light!