The Poetry Corner

In Flanders

By Eugene Field

Through sleet and fogs to the saline bogs Where the herring fish meanders, An army sped, and then, 't is said, Swore terribly in Flanders: "--------!" "--------!" A hideous store of oaths they swore, Did the army over in Flanders! At this distant day we're unable to say What so aroused their danders; But it's doubtless the case, to their lasting disgrace, That the army swore in Flanders: "--------!" "--------!" And many more such oaths they swore, Did that impious horde in Flanders! Some folks contend that these oaths without end Began among the commanders, That, taking this cue, the subordinates, too, Swore terribly in Flanders: Twas "------------!" "--------" Why, the air was blue with the hullaballoo Of those wicked men in Flanders! But some suppose that the trouble arose With a certain Corporal Sanders, Who sought to abuse the wooden shoes That the natives wore in Flanders. Saying: "--------!" "--------" What marvel then, that the other men Felt encouraged to swear in Flanders! At any rate, as I grieve to state, Since these soldiers vented their danders Conjectures obtain that for language profane There is no such place as Flanders. "--------" "--------" This is the kind of talk you'll find If ever you go to Flanders. How wretched is he, wherever he be, That unto this habit panders! And how glad am I that my interests lie In Chicago, and not in Flanders! "----------------!" "----------------!" Would never go down in this circumspect town However it might in Flanders.