And if one deals in hellish schemes, that one must stamp your worth,
You made a shambles of that land, you moved hell up on earth. 
The cries of mangled maidens, the mutilated child,
The tears of butchered mothers, would drive an earth man wild,
And thru it all proclaiming, you were the tool of God—­
O pardner in this orgy, no one suspected fraud. 
You butchered, maimed and pillaged, hell never saw such sights
As the Prussian Guard remembers, on those first Belgian nights.

O shades of maddened Nero and his early Christian fires,
Could he have been in Belgium and have seen your funeral pyres! 
Could he have seen your orgies he would have wept for shame
But had he your fiendish cunning, he might have done the same. 
But the hated Saxon balked you and the desperate fighting Frank
Hurled back our super devils and took us on the flank. 
Your inbred tainted offspring lost his chances at Verdun
Where curtained steel just saved the world from the grip of brutal Hun.

But Wilhelm, you are crafty, you are mine own I ween
Your fertile brain had brought to life the hell-born submarine,
You killed the unarmed merchantmen, you murdered in the dark,
You sent the child and mother to feed your friend the shark. 
The world grew sick with wonder, no voice was raised to laud
And still you did it in your name, the name of you and God. 
Where you have trod the world is dead, no sign of life or mirth,
You beat me, Bill, you beat my hell, with this of yours on earth.

You won hell’s admiration and of all of mine own folk
When you paired off with the ghastly Turk, that was a master stroke. 
And all the things you did before, just now seem weak and tame
Since you launched that Dardanelles campaign of pillage, lust and shame. 
To fuss thus with my chosen race, my ally since time dates
Proclaimed that Kultur and the Turk are well matched running mates. 
And tho I’ve watched hell’s orgies, and stood by in fiendish glee,
I quit you, Bill, these Turkish stunts are far too much for me.

When officers from Kultur’s class stand by and watch a Turk
Just disembowel a mother, why, Bill, it makes me shirk. 
It makes me shudder and I’ve watched the master fiends of hell,
But none of them have brains like you, none do their work so well. 
When Turk and German flood with oil, then set a school ablaze
And bayonet the babies, as they stumble thru the haze,
I yield the crown to you, Dear Bill, my pupil passes me
You take the role of Master and your pupil I will be.

I’ve worked for hell’s best interests, my master now appears
For when your name is mentioned, the imps break into cheers. 
The gavel of the poor damned souls, that long has rung their knell,
Is passed to you, I abdicate and now you rule in hell. 
For years I’ve done the best I could, now I realize I’m thru,
And in the future I’m content to live and learn from you. 
Your earthly work is finished, soon in hell you’ll carve your name
And I shudder when I realize that hell won’t be the same.