Hands all Round.     Tennyson.

Gigantic daughter of the West,
    We drink to thee across the flood,
We know thee most, we love thee best,
    For art thou not of British blood?
Should War’s mad blast again be blown,
    Permit not thou the tyrant powers
To fight thy mother here alone,
    But let thy broadsides roar with ours.
                Hands all round!
    God the tyrant’s cause confound!
To our great kinsmen of the West, my friends,
    And the great name of England round and round.

O rise, our strong Atlantic sons,
    When war against our freedom springs!
O speak to Europe thro’ your guns!
    They can be understood by Kings.
You must not mix our King with those
    That wish to keep their people fools.
Our freedom’s foemen are his foes,
    He comprehends the race he rules.
                Hands all round.
    God the tyrant’s cause confound!
To our dear kinsmen of the West, my friends,
    And the great cause of freedom round and round.

[signed: "Ernie, don’t forget, [Evelyn Gibbs?], Heidelberg.11.8.16"]
[from the Camp Heidelberg Memento Book, page 14]