Britain's New Statesman and Nation last week poked British fun at the election-conscious U.S. Sample stanzas from a poem by "Sagittarius":
DON'T LET'S BE BEASTLY TO AMERICA
If America seems lately
To be burning for a row,
It doesn't matter greatly,
For she's not herself just now.
Her condition is affecting,
For she's just come over queer—
Yes, America's expecting,
And her time is drawing near.
If she seems perverse and fretful
To the British Commonwealth,
We must never be forgetful
Of her present state of health. . . .
If she wants to start the rumor
That the British never fought,
We must cherish her, and humor,
For we know she is distraught;
We must still contrive to love her
While she bares her claws and fangs;
For these demonstrations cover
Her preliminary pangs.
We must not attempt to change her,
Nor her indignation rouse,
Till the Dewey little stranger
Has arrived at the White House,
Or till Roosevelt on election
Celebrates victorious morn—
She'll return our tried affection
Once a president is born.