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Number Twenty

Fables and Fantasies: By H. D. Traill

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I.

Near the nineteenth century's closing
(All the world in peace reposing)
Suddenly the rumour ran,
“War's grim horrors, felt too often,
Good Juenemann will soften”
(Please pronounce “You-any-man”).
“Now he's made the thing a study
War will cease from being bloody,
And will only cause a smell.
Blessings, then, on modern science
And its last humane appliance,
The Narcotic Vapour Shell!
“Boom of gun and rifle's rattle
Shall no more be heard in battle
Once the Doctor's shell has burst;

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All the interest will be focussed
On the question who are hocussed
By their adversaries first.
“Softly these will sink to slumber,
While their weapons, useless lumber,
At their feet abandoned lie;
Which secured and piled, the others
Will approach their sleeping brothers,
And restoratives apply.
“‘Waken, brethren, foes no longer,’
Stronger thus, and ever stronger,
Will arise the friendly shout.
‘Ended ere we'd well begun it
Is the fight; our shell has won it;
Now be yours the shelling out.’
“Blessings then on modern science
For its last humane appliance,
And on him who framed the plan.
War's no more a brutal battue.”
So they raised a stately statue
To the good Juenemann.