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The Macaronis

 Italian people peaceful are,--
 Let it be to their credit.
They mostly fail to win a war, --Oh they themselves have said it.
"Allergic we to lethal guns And military might: We love our homes and little ones, And loath to fight.
" But Teutons are a warrior race Who seek the sword to rattle; And in the sun they claim a place, Even at price of battle.
The prestige of a uniform Is sacred in their sight; They deem that they are soldiers born And might is right.
And so I love Italians though Their fighting powers are petty; My heart with sympathy doth go To eaters of spaghetti.
And if the choice were left to me, I know beyond a doubt A hundred times I'd rather be A Dago than a Kraut.

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