THE HYMN OF HATE.

Taranaki Daily News, 15 January 1916, Page 11

THE HYMN OF HATE.

GUYED BY TOMMY ATKINS. It is a great "draw" for a British company—"luck, pure gorgeous luck"—to get the Germans opposite to sing the ''Hymn of Hate." Then they just guy it. Rovd Cable, the author of "Between the Lines," tells how it is done. "It's been a great do, Snapper," said Private 'Enery Irving some days after, as the battalion 'tramped along the road towards "reserve billets." "An' I 'aven't enjoyed myself so much for months. Didn't it rag 'em beautiful, an ! won't we fair stagger the -ouse at the next sing-sing o' the briga&e?" Snapper chuckled and breathed contentedly into his beloved mouth-organ, and first 'Enery and then the marchingmen took up the words: 'lte of the 'eart, and 'ite of the 'and, 'lte by water, an' 'ite by land. 'Oo do we 'ite to beat the band? (deficient memories, it will be noticed, being compensated by effective inventions in odd lines). The answering roar of "England" startled almost to shying point the horse of a brigadier trotting up to the tail of the column. '•'What on earth are those fellows singing?' he asked one of his officers while soothing his mount. "I'm not sure, sir," said the officer, "but I believe —by the words of it—yes, it's the Germans' "Hymn of Hate."' A French staff officer riding with the brigadier stared in astonishment, first at the marching men, and then at the brigadier, who was rocking with laughter in his saddle.

"Where on earth did they get the tunc? I've never heard it before," said the brigadier, and tried to hum it. The staff officer told liim something of the tale as he had heard it, and the Frenchman's amazement and the brigadier's laughter grew as the tale was told. We 'ave one foe, an' one alone — England! 1 bellowed the Towers, and out of the pause that came so effectively before the last word of the verse rose a triumphant squeal from :the mouth-organ, and the appealing voice of Private 'Enery Irving—''Naw, then, put a bit of 'ate into it." But even that artist, of the emotions had to admit his critical sense of the dramatic fully satisfied by the tone, of vociferous wrath and hatred flung into the Towers' answring roar of ". . . . England!" "What an extraordinary people!" said the French staff officer, eyeing the brigadier shaking with laughter on his prancing charger. And ho'could only heave his shoulders up in an ear-em-bracing shrug of non-comprehension when tho laughing brigadier tried to explain to him. "And the best bit of the whole joke is that this particular regiment it English to the backbone."