No more will Barleycorn a.s.sail our vitals Or be the Leader in our Song Recitals: No more will Liquor check our ardent thirst, And so we'll go from bad, perhaps, to worst.

If we must _eat_, perforce, and never rum it, What will befall the man who has to gum it; Whose teeth are absent and who food eschews, Drawing his daily nourishment from booze; Who can't obtain a single drop of gin To comfort and sustain the man within?

Pleading for drinks, unheeded he'll grow wheezy, But he'll improve his breath if he'll Speak Easy.

The Drunkard's fate would be a dreadful warning, Who, having "opened" Riley's place each morning Found, one cold dawn, the foot-rail gone and read-- "Soft Drinks for Sale" where Schnapps was sold instead.

Picture his sorrow! See him pallid grow When told the facts: a spectacle of woe!

Back to his wife he slinks: he couldn't face her!

Because he missed his usual "morning bracer."

The Place is sold: it's now a candy store Where Schnapps will be dispensed _with_ evermore.

Good-bye, Old Demijohn; Decanters, too!

His life will empty be--and so are you!

Where once the Canteen flourished 'neath our flag, Now Prohibition flags the soldier's jag; And where Josephus keeps his arid log The water-pitcher has succeeded grog.

Some Commonwealths already have the pluck To ban, humanely, those who _chase the duck_; And other States have punished Rum enough To have compa.s.sion on the _boot-leg_ stuff.

Thus Prohibition grows: but so does wheat And corn and rye: I wonder which will beat?

But what of Woman? Where's her rightful freedom?

They ought to have the vote, because we need 'em To purge our land of drunkenness and crime And save our striplings from the slough and slime.

Why _shouldn't_ Women vote? Perhaps they may!

Should Drunkards or Illiterates say nay?

Could citizens of foreign birth refuse To give our Native Daughters what they choose?

Our Native Sons with chivalry invoke Fair play for women,--freedom from the yoke; And shouldn't other Freemen rise in flocks To help our Women win the Ballot Box?

The trouble lies, not _here_, but with the Bosses Who trade in graft and deal in _double crosses_.

The sooner we eliminate this cla.s.s The quicker will _full freedom_ come to pa.s.s.

But watch the Anti! Make her hold her tongue, Or duck her in the pond, the geese among; Or lock her in the booth, without a mirror, Where she can't see herself and we can't hear her.

Thus, neck and neck, these two great questions lead: Will men be equal to their Country's need?

If one Reform upon the other waits, Speed Equal Suffrage to the White House gates,

And Prohibition (Farewell, Dear old Liquor!) Will follow as the tape pursues the ticker!

But if, perchance, the Dry's should get a trimmin', _Smile_, if you please,--but don't _prohibit_ Women!

A REUNION

Once more, Good Friends, we're gathered 'round the board To feel the joys of fellowship restored.

There's nothing like them! _Friends_ can't be replaced, Nor thoughts of them from Memory be effaced!

Of course we form _new_ friendships, but I feel That these, like _old_ ones, are not staunch and real.

It takes long years to _prove_ our friends, you know,-- Those who are steadfast in our weal or woe.

So here's to you, Miss Prim! and you, Miss Prude!

We wouldn't have you different if we could!

Two Roses rare you are, and sweet; I ween You were not doomed to bloom and blush unseen.

I've seen your cheeks suffused with crimson hues; (Dame Nature's _make-up_ is the rouge you use!) I've seen your lips in saucy challenge perked; (But for your protests, they'd be overworked!) I've seen your eyes with mischief filled and tears; (But I could never _pity_ you, My Dears!) I've seen your b.r.e.a.s.t.s with agitation heave; (Your _hearts_ must be affected, I believe!) I've seen your shapely forms pa.s.s in review Before my lonely couch, in dreams of you,-- And what I haven't seen, some little bird Has told me all about. Upon my word, If what he says be true, what I have _heard_ To what I've seen, methinks, would be preferred.

Then here's to Friendship! What more potent force Doth link mankind together? Love, of course, Doth fetter us betimes, but Time must say Whom we shall cherish, whom to cast away.

When Love and Friendship, heart and hand, are bound, What more of Joy can compa.s.s us around?

So, Friends and Sweethearts, Comrades tried and true, We pledge our love and loyalty to you!

THE CRUISE OF THE SQUIRREL

Somewhere, sometime, I've heard it said, or read That Fools b.u.t.t in where Angels fear to tread.

A single "Angel" with a Pack of Fools Is not enough to change established rules; And so, I think, the "Angel" in this case Should bear, alone, the onus and disgrace,-- For Angels should know better than to swoop Upon the Dove of Peace and fowl her coop.

The Good Ship Squirrel has left our sh.o.r.es behind To measure human breath 'gainst Ocean Wind.

"Laden with Nuts" her clearance shows. Four Bells!

She's off! to fight for Peace with all those sh.e.l.ls.

No Port, however, figures in her quest, Her "papers" show,--and this is manifest!

The Dove of Peace, perched on the mizzen-top, Hath disappointments sticking in her crop.

The peaceful bird is shy and very frail; Can't stand the weight of salt upon her tail; The War has made her nervous, and the roar Of many cannon made the poor bird soar.

Up springs a storm! The Dove's white feathers show, While Nuts are cracking on the deck below.

And then an iceberg looms against the sky, But still the Dove is far too proud to fly; But when, anon, a periscope appears The Bird of Peace is overcome by fears, And "beats it" to the iceberg's crystal crest, Where she prepares to build her neutral nest.

The Submarine atop the billows now, Stands by the Squirrel until she dips her bow And sinks beneath the waves; then looks above And takes a parting broadside at the Dove.

The "Angel" then, in Neptune's sky-machine Ascendeth in a blaze of gasoline; The Dove, marooned, broods over many things, Nestling her poor _cold feet_ beneath her wings.

Regenerate, the Angel has returned From empyrean Flight, to Earth, and learned (I think Saint Peter gave him sound advice!) To keep the Pacifistic Germ on ice Until a Luther, if there still remains One decent man where Wilhelm Caesar reigns, Denounces all the crimes of Germany, And proselytes to crush Autocracy.

JINGLES

Little Bo Peep Went fast to sleep; Losing her sheep.

There were ninety and nine of these lambkins that fled When poor, little Bo was asleep in her bed; And when they returned they were _mutton_ instead.

O, what a stew!

'Twixt me and yew What could Bo do?

O! Jack and Jill Went up the hill, Their pail to fill.

The water was _running_: they didn't pursue, But filled up their growler with Double X Brew, And Jill, in a measure, was full, and Jack too.

Both had a thirst: Jack's was the worst: He tumbled first.

Horner boy Jack Had the right knack; Cornered the snack.

His fortune grew fast from that one Christmas plum; His profits on 'Change showed a marvelous sum, Till he soon had Financialdom under his thumb.

O! what a wiz!

Jack knew his biz: All now is his.

Good old King Cole, "Merry old Soul,"

Knew how to _bowl_.

No high-b.a.l.l.s were spared at his nocturnal spread, And the fumes of the liquor would strike in his head Till, knocked off his pins, he was set up in bed.

Jacka.s.s or king Will have his fling: Naughty, Old Thing.

Old Lady Drew Lived in a shoe: Children there too.

Their home was too cramped for a dozen or more, But others have suffered from tight shoes before, So the latch-string was always hung out on the door.

To upper skies Good old sole flies, With all her ties.