Hymn of Hate against England.

[Gawdzilla Sama]

Here is a curiosity from the time of the First World War, the hymn that was written by Ernst Lissauer in 1914 to stir up wholesome hatred against the English, an interesting example of the aberrant forms that patriotic feeling can take in wartime. Quite a compliment really for the English that they alone should be thought worthy of this treatment ('French and Russian they matter not'). For present purposes the Scots, Welsh etc. can doubtless be regarded as honorary Englishmen.

Ernst Lissauer (1882-1937), who came from a Jewish family of manufacturers of silken good, was decorated for his efforts by the Kaiser, and copies were of his poem were apparently circulated among the German troops (although one wonders how they would have viewed it, this kind of thing tends to have more appeal on the home front). It was soon translated into English, and was thought to be a great joke; my grandfather, who served as a medical officer near the Western Front, recalled it with glee and could still quote some lines from memory. I believe in fact that the Brtish troops sometimes used to chant it at the front. Poor Lissauer, who had literary ambitions, now seems to be remembered for nothing else.

I will start with the English translation, which is good rollicking stuff; all sing together now!

French and Russian they matter not,
A blow for a blow and a shot for a shot;
We love them not, we hate them not,
We hold the Weichsel and Vosges-gate,
We have but one and only hate,
We love as one, we hate as one,
We have one foe and one alone.
He is known to you all, he is known to you all,
He crouches behind the dark grey flood,
Full of envy, of rage, of craft, of gall,
Cut off by waves that are thicker than blood,
Come, let us stand at the Judgment place,
An oath to swear to, face to face,
An oath of bronze no wind can shake,
An oath for our sons and their sons to take.
Come, hear the word, repeat the word,
Throughout the Fatherland make it heard.
We will never forego our hate,
We have but one single hate,
We love as one, we hate as one,
We have one foe, and one alone --
ENGLAND!

Take you the folk of the Earth in pay,
With bars of gold your ramparts lay,
Bedeck the ocean with bow on bow,
Ye reckon well, but not well enough now.
French and Russian, they matter not,
A blow for a blow, a shot for a shot,
We fight the battle with bronze and steel,
And the time that is coming Peace will seal.
You we will hate with a lasting hate,
We will never forego our hate,
Hate by water and hate by land,
Hate of the head and hate of the hand,
Hate of the hammer and hate of the crown,
Hate of seventy millions choking down.
We love as one, we hate as one,
We have one foe and one alone--
ENGLAND!

* * *

The original masterpiece:

Was schiert uns Russe und Franzos'?
Schuss wider Schuss und Stoss um Stoss,
Wir lieben sie nicht,
Wir hassen sie nicht,
Wir schützen Weichsel und Wasgaupass,
Wir haben nur einen einzigen Hass,
Wir lieben vereint, wir hassen vereint,
Wir haben nur einen einzigen Feind:
Denn ihr alle wisst, denn ihr alle wisst,
Er sitzt geduckt hinter der grauen Flut,
Voll Neid, voll Wut, voll Schläue, voll List,
Durch Wasser getrennt, die sind dicker als Blut.
Wir wollen treten in ein Gericht,
Einen Schwur zu schwören, Gesicht in Gesicht.
Einen Schwur von Erz, den verbläst kein Wind,
Einen Schwur für Kind und für Kindeskind,
Vernehmt das Wort, sagt nach das Wort,
Es wälzt sich durch ganz Deutschland fort:
Wir wollen nicht lassen von unserem Hass,
Wir haben alle nur einen Hass,

Wir lieben vereint, wir hassen vereint,
Wir haben alle nur einen Feind:
ENGLAND!


In der Bordkajüte, im Feiersaal,
Sassen Schiffsoffiziere beim Liebesmahl,
Wie ein Säbelhieb, wie ein Segelschwung,
Einer riss grüssend empor den Trunk,
Knapp hinknallend wie Ruderschlag,
Drei Worte sprach er: "Auf den Tag!"
Wem galt das Glas?
Sie hatten alle nur einen Hass.
Wer war gemeint?
Sie hatten alle nur einen Feind:
ENGLAND!

Nimm du die Völker der Erde in Sold,
Baue Wälle aus Barren von Gold,
Bedecke die Meerflut mit Bug bei Bug,
Du rechnetest klug, doch nicht klug genug.
Was schiert uns Russe und Franzos'!
Schuss wider Schuss, und Stoss um Stoss.
Wir kämpfen den Kampf mit Bronze und Stahl
Und schliessen Frieden irgend einmal,
Dich werden wir Hassen mit langem Hass,
Wir werden nicht lassen von unserem Hass,
Hass zu Wasser und Hass zu Land,
Hass des Hauptes und Hass der Hand,
Hass der Hämmer und Hass der Kronen,
Drosselnder Hass von siebzig Millionen,
Sie lieben vereint, sie hassen vereint,
Sie alle haben nur einen Feind:
ENGLAND!

[Animavore]

[Feck]

and lets round it off with Flower of Scotland .

[Animavore]

and lets round it off with Flower of Scotland .

[Feck]

and lets round it off with Flower of Scotland .

it's another anti-english tune .

[Animavore]

and lets round it off with Flower of Scotland .

it's another anti-english tune .

[Gawdzilla Sama]

Flower of Scotland
(Written by Roy Williamson of "The Corries")
Although "Flower of Scotland" is not a traditional song, it has been adopted as Scotland's de facto national anthem, along with "Scotland the Brave"

O Flower of Scotland,
When will we see
Your like again,
That fought and died for,
Your wee bit Hill and Glen,
And stood against him,
Proud Edward's Army,
And sent him homeward,
Tae think again.

The Hills are bare now,
And Autumn leaves
lie thick and still,
O'er land that is lost now,
Which those so dearly held,
That stood against him,
Proud Edward's Army,
And sent him homeward,
Tae think again.

Those days are past now,
And in the past
they must remain,
But we can still rise now,
And be the nation again,
That stood against him,
Proud Edward's Army,
And sent him homeward,
Tae think again.

0 Flower of Scotland,
When will we see
your like again,
That fought and died for,
Your wee bit Hill and Glen,
And stood against him,
Proud Edward's Army,
And sent him homeward,
Tae think again.

[klr]

and lets round it off with Flower of Scotland .

Damn, beat me to it ...

[Clinton Huxley]

The envy of lesser nations (ie all the rest) takes many a twisted form.

[Gawdzilla Sama]

The envy of lesser nations (ie all the rest) takes many a twisted form.

Now I'm in a Fixed-ated loop.

[Svartalf]

and lets round it off with Flower of Scotland .

You'd like A NATION Once Again or Teddy Bear's Head better maybe?

[Svartalf]

and lets round it off with Flower of Scotland .

Damn, beat me to it ...

I prefer the classics, give me Burns' Scots Wha Hae any day.

[Coito ergo sum]

I was born on a Dublin street where the Royal drums do beat
And the loving English feet they tramped all over us,
And each and every night when me father'd come home tight
He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus:

Oh, come out you black and tans,
Come out and fight me like a man
Show your wives how you won medals down in Flanders
Tell them how the IRA made you run like hell away,
From the green and lovely lanes in Killashandra.
Come let me hear you tell
How you slammed the great Pernell,
When you fought them well and truly persecuted,
Where are the smears and jeers
That you bravely let us hear
When our heroes of sixteen were executed.

Come tell us how you slew
Those brave Arabs two by two
Like the Zulus they had spears and bows and arrows,
How you bravely slew each one
With your sixteen pounder gun
And you frightened them poor natives to their marrow.

The day is coming fast
And the time is here at last,
When each yeoman will be cast aside before us,
And if there be a need
Sure my kids wil sing, "Godspeed!"
With a verse or two of Steven Beehan's chorus.

Limeys!

[Svartalf]

Ouch... I keep forgetting about this one. Problem is I learned Follow Me Up to Carlow by heart, but never could do the same with this one.

[Coito ergo sum]

Come On, Brave Boys

Anonymous (and with good reason), New York, 1734

Come on, brave boys, let us be brave,
For liberty and law,
Boldly despite the haughty knave
That would keep us in awe.
Let's scorn the tools bought by a sop,
And every crying fool,
The man who basely bend's a fop,
A vile, insipid tool.

Our country's rights we will defend,
Like brave and honest men;
We voted right and there's an end,
And so we'll do again.
We vote all signers out of place,
As men who did amiss,
Who sold us by a false address,
I'm sure we're right in this.

Exchequer courts, as void by law,
Great grievances we call;
Though great men do assert no flaw
Is in them, they shall fall,
And be contemned by every man
That's fond of liberty;
Let them withhold it all they an,
Our Laws we will stand by.

Though pettyfogging knaves deny us
Rights of Englishmen,
We'll make the scoundrel rascals fly,
And ne'er return again.
Our judges they would chop and change
For those that serve their turn,
And will not surely think it strange
If they for this should mourn.

Come fill a bumper, fill it up,
Unto our Aldermen;
For Common-Council fill the cup,
And take it o'er again.
While they with us resolve to stand
For liberty and law,
We'll drink their healths with hat in hand
Whoraa! Whoraa! Whoraa!