Great Britain (the Baby's Baedeker)

The British are a chilly race. / The Englishman is thin and tall; / He screws an eyeglass in his face, / And talks with a reluctant drawl. / 'Good Gwacious! This is doosid slow! / By Jove! Haw demmy! Don't-cher-know!'

The English_woman_ ev'rywhere / A meed of admiration wins; / She has a crown of silken hair, / And quite the loveliest of skins. / (Go forth and seek an English maid, / Your trouble will be well repaid.)

Where Britain's banner is unfurled / There's room for nothing else beside, / She owns one-quarter of the world, / And still she is not satisfied. / The Briton thinks himself, by birth, / To be the lord of all the earth.

Some call his manners wanting, or / His sense of humour poor, and yet / Whatever he is striving for / He as a rule contrives to get; / His methods may be much to blame, / But he arrives there just the same.

_MORAL_

If you can get your wish, you bet it / Doesn't much matter _how_ you get it!