Cf.

PLEASE SELL NO MORE DRINK TO MY FATHER

Please, sir, will you listen a moment?
I've something important to say.
My mother has sent you a message.
Receive it in kindness, I pray.
It's of father, poor father, I'm speaking.
You know him: he's called "Ragged Gore" [?].
But we love him and hope we may save him
If you promise to sell him no more.

   Please sell no more drink to my father:
   It makes him so strange and so wild!
   Heed the prayer of my heartbroken mother,
   And pity the poor drunkard's child.

My father came home yestereven,
Reeled home through the mud and the rain.
He upset the lamp on our table
And struck my sick mother again.
Then all through the hours till the morning
He lay on our cold kitchen floor,
And this morning he's sick and he's sorry:
Please promise to sell him no more.

When sober, he loves us so dearly --
No father is kinder than he.
He wishes so much to stop drinking,
But this is the trouble, you see:
He cannot resist the temptation
He feels when he passes your door
As he goes to his work in the morning.
Please promise to sell him no more.

-- On Elsa Lanchester, _Bawdy Cockney Songs_, Everest 2065

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