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When 'Il Duce' and his mighty legions
knocked at Greece's ancient gate.
He had forty million people
and the Greeks had only eight.
With his Fascist banners gleaming
from the high Albanian peak.
"I am coming!" cried Il Duce.
"Come ahead!" replied the Greek.

"Forward!" shouted the commanders
with a good old Roman curse.
And the legions started rolling
rolling swiftly-- in reverse!
As throughout the startled nation
the news began to leak
That /Il Duce/ had been walloped!
By the sturdy little Greek.

Then that poor, moth-eaten Caesar.
What a different song he sang!
"This great big bully licked me!
Hey Adolf, get your gang!"
"You're a Dumkopf!" cried the Fuhrer.
As he pulled his trusty gun.
"You don't know how to murder kids."
"I'll show you how it's done."

     ...

And then the tanks began to roll, with clank and roar and groan.
The great planes blacked the sky and filled the air with ceaseless drone.
With endless rank, and flame, and bomb, and gray guns long and sleek.
The mighty German war machine moved down upon the Greek.

And still, that fellow wouldn't run; he didn't quite know how.
"We've got some help" he said "And that just makes it even now".
Bring on your millions, Adolf dear; we're neither scared, nor meek!
The British, sixty-thousand strong, are standing with the Greek!


They fought a fight like Homer's song.
They died, as Brave men must.
Their ranks, beneath dark odds
were beaten, to the dust.

And then, 'Heroic Chivalry'
attained its highest peak.
As the victors clasped their bloodied hands
above the fallen Greek.



Some day, beyond this veil of tears, we'll all stand on the spot.
And tell the judge of all the world just who we were, and what.
I wouldn't be a Fascist then.
Or a Nazi, grim and bleak.

But I'll be proud to tell my God that once: I was, a Greek.