Or whether it’s just trenches, trees, and mud,
And I’ll guarantee she’ll get there with her precious human load
And her treads a-drippin’ red with German blood.
Oh, you tank! tank! tank!
She’s a pippin’, she’s a daisy, she’s a dream!
Where the star-shells are a-lightin’ up the thickest of the fightin’,
She’ll be sailin’ like a demon through the gleam.
If the way is rough and stony and the vantage point is far,
Just slip her into high and hang on tight,
Shove your foot down on the throttle and to hell with all the jar!—