The Use and Need of the Life of Carry A. Nation Part 26

The lips that touch liquor don't hanker to touch The lips of a maiden like you--not much!

If a man--not a milksop--should happened to wed A creature like you, he had better be dead; For never a moment of peace would he see Unless he would bow to your every decree, If he smoked a cigar, or drank beer, you would make A h.e.l.l of his home, and perhaps you would break Into court and denounce him, in search of divorce, And fools would uphold you, as matter of course.

Perhaps, like the Nation, a hatchet you'd take And his bottles of beer and cigar-boxes break, And get your name blazoned in all of the papers, By your rowdydow talk and unwomanly capers, No! the lips that touch liquor don't hanker to touch The lips of a female like you are--not much!

I am not a poet myself but I am fortunate in having a friend that is, so I called on him to meet this antagonist with a n.o.bler steel, and behold the defeat of this champion of a dying cause:

AN AMERICAN COUNTESS, OR LADY VERE.

"The lips that touch liquor, shall never touch mine;"

The meaning is clear, the sense is divine, Bespeaks a clear head, an unsullied heart-- A fortune from which no sane man would part.

O, G.o.d! give us more of such women, we pray, Then slop-pots of whisky we'd urge to the fray.

The hatchets of "Carrie," and Cora Vere, Would knock out the spigots and bungs of whisky.

An army like those would drive them pell-mell; For safety they'd Hazen, and think they did well To escape from the jury of women turned loose Who have drank to its dregs the d.a.m.nation of booze.

The idea that women would "hanker" to touch, The lips of a demijohn; I guess not--"not much;"

A forty-rod pole should line up between, No nearer than that a fair lady be seen.

So now, "Indiana, of Royal Arch News,"

You've taken great pains to give us your views; I take up the gauntlet, and venture reply; I stop not to argue, but simply defy.

You say in one case one had better be dead Than with a good woman in wedlock be wed: But somewhere I've read your kind do not die; But pa.s.sing from earth, 'are hung up to dry."

Besotted with whiskey,--unfitting to tell, Even Satan himself avoiding the "smell;"

Before then we part, I would bid you adieu, Reform while you may--begin life anew.

If you have a surplus--like Lady Vere, Please pa.s.s them around, turn them over to me; "A la Hobson"--I'd venture to sample the store, And look o'er the field--yes! and "hanker" for more.

Sparta, Mo. D. E. GRAYSTON.

"G.o.d BLESS OUR CARRIE NATION."

May she live to see the day, When the liquor traffic will be no more, When the traffic of the devil Will all be swept away And G.o.d's peace remain supreme from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e.

G.o.d bless the hatchet wielder, May it never cease to strike, Till it drives the cursed intemperance from our land Let us stand for G.o.d and duty, Till we gain the Eden of beauty And be what G.o.d designed for us, A happy union band.

G.o.d bless our Carrie Nation, Give her courage, strength, and might, To go forth in former battlements arrayed.

Till this cursed intemperance, Will be driven from our sh.o.r.e, From every village, hamlet and the glade.

O, G.o.d raise up a million, Of our Carrie Nation minds, That they may fight for freedom, from the thrall.

Let's join our hands with Carrie And do not let us tarry, Oh, let us toil for Jesus one and all.

AMERICA'S HISTORIC HATCHET.

Ere Yankee Doodle came to town, And routed king and tory, Three words sublime were writ by time To live in song and story; "George Washington"--immortal name There's few or none can match it; His father's favorite cherry tree, And "George's little hatchet."

In Boston's harbor next we trace The little hatchet's story; In smashing up the Crown's tea-chests, It won a crown of glory.

And every time Wrong shows his head, That weapon "bald doth s.n.a.t.c.h it, For patriot hands are ever found To wield the "Yankee hatchet."

A century and more has pa.s.sed, With blooms and blizzards blowing O'er Kansas' plains--where corn and grains, 'Round happy homes are growing; Where statutes pure close each "joint" door, Forbidding to unlatch it, There, in the fight, defending Right, We find our "loyal hatchet."

The boy who 'could not tell a lie,"

The flag of freedom planted, He sh.e.l.led "Corn"--wallis to the "cob"

On Yorktown's field undaunted.

Since then, our tea is duty free No Briton dare attach it; While the new woman in the case, Now poses with the hatchet.

She dares to fight a gorgon fight!

A cruel monster h.e.l.l-born, Whose hungry maw, ignoring law, Mocks misery's tears to scorn.

She may not slay the beast, but aye Her blows will badly scratch it; All praise is due the woman true, Who wields the "home-guard" hatchet.

When time shall build the marble guild, That marks man's reformation, Its arch of fame shall bear the name Of dauntless Carrie Nation.

Her righteous scorn of rum and wrong-- May all creation catch it, And join the "Woman's World Crusade,"

Armed with "our nation's" hatchet.

--Minna Irving, in Leslie's Weekly. Revised and second stanza added by C. Butler Andrews.

THE HATCHET CRUSADE.

(Dedicated to Mrs. Carry Nation.)

Oh, woman, armed with one little hatchet.

Fighting for justice and right, And with your brave mother courage Knowing your cause was right,

You've done more to hasten G.o.d's kingdom, And to crush satan's power o'er men, Than countless numbers of creation's lords, With the power of the ballot thrown in.

You've awakened the mothers to action Whose powers have long dormant been, While the minions of satan have strained every nerve To ruin our boys and our men.

Rouse, mothers, too long we've been sleeping, Shall one of us let it be said That we calmly stood by while those who are dear Were down to destruction led.

American mothers, hear me, If you think G.o.d will not send the warning In hieroglyphics upon the wall?

G.o.d is not mocked, He is just the same,

And has given the power to you.

If you're weighed and found wanting our nation will fall Because you did not your duty do.

Then let us unfurl our broad banners, Fling their folds to the breezes high, Let this still be our motto, "We'll trust in G.o.d, and keep our powder dry."

--CARRIE CHEW SNEDDON.

"The Use and Need of the Life of Carry A. Nation."

Revised Edition. 25,000 Copies.

Finely Ill.u.s.trated.

Fancy Paper Covers, 50c. Cloth, $1.00 BY MAIL POSTPAID.

ADDRESS ALL ORDERS TO CARRY A. NATION, Guthrie, Okla.

------------------------------------------ Prohibition Federation.