(Dennison Woodcock)
Jessie by the fountain stood
With pitcher in her hand;
She dipped it in the crystal flood
And gave each thirsty man
Who from the hay fields gathered there,
And standing near the brink,
From a gentle hand so fair
Received the cooling drink.
A smile of joy was in her eye,
A consciousness of good;
She felt a blessing from on high,
Approval of her God.
Water pure is all they need
To drive their thirst away;
So again they all proceed
To work amid the hay.
Then drink of water pure and clear,
From stimulants refrain,
'Twill not with business interfere
Or cause a muddled brain.
Another stands behind the bar,
Rather out of place;
A seared conscience seems to mar
The beauty of her face.
She cares not for children's woes
Or anxious mother's need;
While money to her coffer goes
To gratify her greed.
Men go there their thirst to check
With brandy, rum and gin;
She throws a halter round their necks
Which drags them there again.
Their money gone and senses too,
More thirsty than before;
What do these foolish mortals do
But beg and plead for more.
They stagger out into the street,
With curses on their tongue,
With palsied hands and tangled feet,
A sight for old and young.
Which one is a source of pride
And which a social scar,
Jessie by the fountain side,
Or Greed behind the bar?