While in the process of going through water logged items, I came across a box of my Great Great Grandfather Boliver's belongings. A pocket watch, a pair of spectacles and a poem, being typed and signed at the bottom by my Great Great Grandfather. Take a read, let me know...have you seen this before? If not, I can only infer that it was possibly composed by him.
The Kaiser's Talk To Hell
The Kaiser called the devil up
On the telephone one day
The girl at central listened
To all they had to say.
"Hello". She heard the Kaiser say,
Is old man Satan home?
Just tell him it is Kaiser Bill,
That wants him on the phone.
The devil said, "Hello" to Bill
and said "How are you?"
I'm running a hell here on earth
Now tell me what to do.
"What can I do" the devil said,
"My dear old Kaiser Bill,
If there's a thing that I can do,
To help you sure I will
The Kaiser said, "Now Listen
And I will try to tell
The way that I am running things
on earth a modern hell.
I've saved for this for many years
And I've started out to kill,
That it will be a modern job
You leave to Kaiser Bill
My army went thru Belgium
Shooting women and children down,
We tore up all her country
And blowed up every town.
My Zepps dropped bombs on Cities,
Killing both the old and young
And those the Zepplins didn't get
Were taken out and hung.
I started out for Paris,
With the aid of poisonous gas,
The Belgians, Darn them, stopped us
And would not let us pass.
My submarines are devils,
Why you should see them fight,
They go sneaking thru the sea
And will sink a ship at sight.
I was running things to suit me
Till a year or so ago,
Then a man called "Woodrow Wilson,
Wrote me to go slow.
He says to me, Dear William,
We don't want to make you sore
So be sure to tell your U-Boats,
To sink our boats no more.
We have told you for the last time,
So dear Bill its up to you,
And if you do not stop it
You'll have to fight us too.
I did not listen to him.
And he's coming after me,
With a million Yankee Sailors
From their home across the sea.
Now, that's why I called you Satan,
For I want advice from you
I know that you will tell me,
Just what I ought to do.
My dear old Kaiser William,
There's not much for me to tell
For the Yanks will make it hotter,
Than I ever could in Hell.
I've been a mean old devil
But not half as mean as you,
And the minute that you get here,
I will give the job to you.
I'll be ready for your coming,
And I'll keep the fires all bright
And I'll have your room all ready,
When the Yanks begin to fight.
For the boys in blue will get you,
I have nothing more to tell,
Hang up the phone and get your hat,
And meet me here in HELL.
D.F. Boliver
Dusk...the in between time of day's end and night's begin beckoned to the revelers as they writhed warily amongst the headstones of the timeworn burial ground. The cemetery, protected by unbending Weeping Willows with bony branches, breached the night sky to pierce the sickening stillness. All those in attendance whispered a solemn prayer, trusting that the Omnipotent watcher would bequeath spoken boon. As the twilight slipped into darkness, the procession grew more solemn, the resolve a bit weakened like that of the branch of the frail Willow. Just a few more yards and the dare would be completed, triumph within grasp, but then a rasp shattered the stoic silence. The sound intensified and yet the distinct location couldn't be ascertained by the attendees. With never more the fiber to persevere...and stricken with a bolt of fear, they departed never completing the nighttime dare.
