I had rum, and gin, and brandy
All made of whiskey, too,
And all arranged so handy
To tempt their thirsty view.
Oh! no they need not talk it,
Those were happy times.
With hand in drunkard's pocket
Hauling out the dimes.
Was I starving others?
Then so let it be;
Those children and the mothers
Did not belong to me.
While lying in the gutter,
A mother's loving son,
Conscience began to mutter
At the deed I'd done.
Then came this consolation
Just in the nick of time;
The law of state and nation
Had legalized the crime.
For I had got my license,
Had paid my license fee;
So the squeemish nonsense
Had no effect on me.
The brewers of the nation
To the constitution go,
To save their occupation
From the prohibition blow,
Wonder if the constitution
Would reinstate me here;
Defend me from invasion
While selling rum and beer.
For temperance is booming,
My license now is dead,
And poverty is coming,
My children cry for bread.
Gambling I've been trying
But could not stand the test;
With all my cheat and lying
I came out second best.
I wish I'd stuck to labor,
Earned my bread by honest toil,
Like my hale and happy neighbor
Who ploughs and tills the soil.
My flesh is made of lager,
My muscles weak and lax;
I cannot turn the auger,
Swing the hammer or the ax.
My children's cries so wounding,
My heart with anguish torn;
My troubles so confounding,
I wish I'd not been born.
The thread of life I'd sever
And lay myself to rest;
But thoughts of the forever
Send trouble to my breast.
Should I meet with retribution
Beyond the bounds of time,
Neither law nor constitution
Would legalize the crime.
WRIGHTS
(Dennison Woodcock)
Among the spurs of Allegheny
Lofty hills with wooded heights,
Nestled in the Portage Valley
Is the little hamlet Wrights.
Hamilton and Portage Valley
By right angles, here unite;
Both together make a fairly
Good and level village site.
Limpid streams unto the river
On their way go babbling by;
While the silvery pools, they mirror
Cloudlets floating in the sky.
Growing grain and verdant meadows,
Fields of corn, silos to fill;
Winding streams and waving willows
Orchards on the sloping hill.
Cattle grazing in the pasture
On the hillside fresh and green,
With their coats of silky luster,
Many goats and kids are seen.
There's the schoolhouse at the corner,
Quiet order there appears,
Where the earnest studious learners
Are prepared for future years.
There's the church with lofty steeple,
And the old bell hanging there,
Often rings to call the people
To their sermon, praise and prayer.
Another church they are building,
The foundation they have laid;
May the golden truth be gilding
All the words that there are said.
On the switch the cars are loaded
With potatoes, grain and hay,
So the farmers are commoded
As they ship their goods away.
Hark! we hear the train a-rumbling.
People waiting for a ride;
Four times a day the mail is coming,
All aboard! Away they glide.
There's the store nearby the railroad,
Business humming every day;
Goods are brought there by the carload
Many teams draw them away.
Another store where the farmer
Buys the tools that he may need;
From a reaper to a hammer,
Groceries with feed and seed.
The factory where they make the cheeses,
Great round cheeses, just the thing
What the most the patron pleases
Is the cash the cheeses bring.
Here the honest, frugal farmers
With the help of care and toil,
Bringing wealth into their garners,
Drawing money from the soil.
Smiles play on the the neighbors' faces,
Accent of fraternal love,
While at many times and places,
Kindly deeds their friendship prove.
CAUTION TO BOYS, or THE SILLY FLY
There was a very silly fly
Buzzing low, then flying high;
Down on paper smooth and fair
Saw some flies were sticking there.
"Those flies must be very weak,
On that paper there to stick..
If I was there I would not stay,
I would rise and fly away."
He lit down on the paper's side,
Flew a circle large and wide,
He thought to give a parting kick,
Found at last the stuff would stick.
He struggled hard to get away,
Found that he was doomed to stay;
'Twas there he sung a doleful lay
Until life had passed away.
A smart young lad would oft repair
Where the smokers gathered there;
Says "I will show you that I can
Smoke as well as any man."
His smoking made him rather sick;
Hove his breakfast very quick;
He smoked a little every day,
Learned to smoke as well as they.
Thought he could quit at any time,
With his feelings in their prime;
Refrained from smoking all one day,
Things were looking dark and gray,
Those saucy imps they at me stare,
Trouble meets me everywhere,
Conscience whetted to an edge
By promises on memory's page.
Those broken pledges at me stare,
Fiends are floating in the air;
The Devil's got me in his gripe.
"Give me, give me back my pipe!"
He, like all others of his stripe,
Lifelong slave unto his pipe,
And like the little, silly fly
Doomed to stick until they die.