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happy? – Dec 27 (rum by gum)

Abby Sale 27 Dec 05 - 08:29 AM
GUEST,Joe_F 27 Dec 05 - 09:53 PM
The Walrus 28 Dec 05 - 06:11 PM
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Subject: happy? – Dec 27 (rum by gum)
From: Abby Sale
Date: 27 Dec 05 - 08:29 AM


Carry Nation's (1846–1911) first hatchet-wielding bar raid for the W.C.T.U.
was enjoyed in Wichita, Kansas on 12/27/1900.

         I am a psychedelic maiden.
        
        A cancerous sinner
        Who does not pray

        To Joe Camel.
        Sometimes I am a
        Prohibition preacher

        But when I just say, "No,"
        I just throw oak
        Upon the addict fires.
        I don't hold a hatchet

        In my hand.
        All I have is a bottle
        Full of piss.
        Instead of the Holy Bible,
        I quote I'll Quit Tommorow.

                "Carry A. Nation" by Scott Stalnaker;
                Gruene Street, An Internet Journal of Prose and Poetry, V.2, Iss #1 (7/96)

ALSO:
        Away, away with rum by gum, with rum by gum, with rum by gum,
        Away, away with rum by gum, the song of the temperance union.

                "Away with Rum"

ALSO:
        Of all the crimes that ever has been,
        Sellin' whiskey is the greatest sin;
        Caused more sorrow, grief, an' woe
        Than anything else that I know-

                "The Whiskey Seller" (Which I first heard from an awful singer/banjist
                but that didn't stop it from being a good tune. Says something.)

Copyright © 2005, Abby Sale - all rights reserved
What are Happy's all about? See Clicky


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Subject: Lyr Add: PLEASE SELL NO MORE DRINK TO MY FATHER
From: GUEST,Joe_F
Date: 27 Dec 05 - 09:53 PM

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.

CHORUS: 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

S.|m.m.m.m.r.d.|m.r........
d.|T.l.s.f.m.r.|m..........
S.|m.m.m.m.r.d.|m.r........
d.|T.l.s.f.L.T.|d..........
Td|r.s.s.s.4..l|m.r........
r.|r.l.l.l.s..l|t..........
Td|r.s.s.s.4..l|m.r........
r.|m.t.d


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Subject: RE: happy? – Dec 27 (rum by gum)
From: The Walrus
Date: 28 Dec 05 - 06:11 PM

Now the day has passed may I add an anti-Temperence toast as an antidote?

So, Here's to a temperence supper
With water in glasses tall,
And coffee and tea to finish,
...And me nowhere near it at all.

This may be the final stanza of a much longer piece, but it's the only bit I know.

W


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Mudcat time: 17 October 8:51 AM EDT

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