the use and need of the life of carrie a. nation-第52部分
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O； many years I've carried on
My business in this town；
I've helped elect its officers
From mayor Dram clear down；
I've let policemen； fer a wink；
Get jags here every day；
Say； Billy； get a move on； fer
She's headed right this way。
I don't mind temp'rance meetin's
When they simply resolute；
Fer after all their efforts bring
But mighty little fruit；
But when crowbars and hatchets
'Nd hand axes fill the air
Say； Billy； git that boiler iron
Across the window there！
It beats the nationno； I think
The Nation's beatin' me；
When I can pay a license here
And still not sell it free；
Fer I must keep my customers
Outside 'nd make 'em wait；
Because the story's got around
She's comin' on the freight。
There； Billy； now we've got her
Six…eights across the door；
'Nd solid half…inch boiler iron
Where plate glass showed before；
But； Bill； before that freight arrives
Ye'd better take a pick
'Nd pry that cellar window loose；
So we can git out quick。 ED。 BLAIR。
A。 WOMAN。
（Dedicated to Mrs。 Carry Nation。）
When Kansas joints are open wide
To ruin men on every side；
What power can stem their lawless tide？
A woman。
When many mother's hearts have bled
And floods of sorrow's tears are shed；
Who strikes the serpent on the head？
A woman。
When boys are ruined every day
And older ones are led astray；
Who boldly strikes and wins the fray？
A。 woman。
When drunkenness broods o'er the home；
Forbidding pleasure there to come；
Whose hatchet spills the jointist's rum？
A woman。
When rum's slain victims fall around；
And vice and poverty abound；
Who cuts this up as to the ground？
A woman。
When those who should enforce the law
Are useless as are men of straw；
What force can make saloons withdraw？
A woman。
When public sentiment runs low；
And no one dares to make them go；
Whose hatchet lays their fixtures low？
A woman。
Who sways this mighty rising tide
That daily grows more deep and wide；
Until no rum shall it outride？
A woman。
Who then can raise her fearless band
And say 'twas 〃Home Defender's〃 band
Who drove this monster from the land！
A woman。
DR。 T。 J。 MERRYMAN。
THAT LITTLE HATCHET。
The world reveres brave Joan of Arc；
Whose faith inspired her fellowman
To crush invading columns dark。
So； modern woman's firmer will
To conquer crime's unholy clan；
Crowns her man's moral leader still。
A century was fading fast；
When o'er its closing decade passed
A matron's figure； chaste； yet bold；
Who held within her girdle's fold
A bran' new hatchet。
The jointists smiled within their bars；
'Mid bottles； mirrors and cigars
The woman passed behind each screen；
And soon ocurred a 〃literal〃 scene
Rum； ruin； racket！
At first she 〃moral suasion〃 tried；
But lawless men mere 〃talk〃 deride：
'Twas then she seized her household ax
And for enforcing law by acts；
Found nought to match it。
The work thus wrought with zeal discreet；
Has saved that town from rum complete；
Proving that woman's moral force
Like man's； is held； as last resource；
By sword or hatchet。
And following up that dauntless raid；
The nation welcomes her crusade；
All o'er the land； pure women charmed；
Are eager forming； each one armed
With glittering hatchets。
Talk of 〃defenders of the nation！〃
Woman's slight arm sends consternation
'Mong its worst foes； on social fields；
Worse than the 〃Mauser；〃 when she wields
The 〃smashing〃 hatchet。
Mahommed sought by arts refined；
To raise his standard o'er mankind；
But found success for aye denied；
Until at length he boldly tried
The battle…hatchet。
When soon his power imperial； shone
O'er countless tribes； in widening zone；
And wine was banished from the board
Of Moslem millions； by the sword
And victor's hatchet。
So may it be with this great nation；
When woman tests her high vocation；
Persuasion proves a futile power
To quell the joints； but quick they cower
At the whirling hatchets。
True chivalry must come again；
And men； more noble； but less vain；
Responding to its modern sense；
Guard woman； while in self…defense
She plies her hatchet。
When honor bright appeals to men
〃The weak confounds the mighty；〃 then
Side doors and slot…machines must close
And such games hide； when women pose
With sharpened hatchets。
'Else are men brutes； and all their pride
And gallant valor； they must hide
In coward shirking。 This shameful end
They must accept； or else defend
The 〃home…guard〃 hatchet。
'Tis woman's crucial； fateful hour；
Her fine soul's test； 'gainst man's coarse power。
In war； she can not be man's peer；
But for home's weal； all men sincere
Bow to her hatchet。
Man's 〃Vigilance〃 is oft condoned；
When Vice and Crime has been enthroned。
Shall women then； be more to blame；
When she In Virtue's sacred name
Raises her hatchet？
'Tis she must grasp the nation's prize
A pure； proud home； earth's paradise。
The joints must go； but； never till
Woman exerts her potent will
And holy hatchet。
As men； once slaves； their freedom gained
By force； and power at length attained；
So； cultured brains and force combined；
Shall mark the sphere of womankind
And surely reach it。
In valor； more Joan d'Arc's are needed；
Woman's high social power's conceded；
But she herself； must blaze the path
To public morals； by her own worth
And 〃Little Hatchet。〃
C。 BUTLER…ANDREWS。
Dr。 Howard Russell told in his address at Kokomo； Sunday； March
24； how when Mrs。 Nation was on her way from Topeka to Peoria
recently； a passenger on the same train came into the car where she
was and sang a song of his own composition。 He was evidently a farmer
with a large stock of mother…wit。 He was lame； and limped into the
car； and hopped up and down while he sang。 A great deal of merry
enthusiasm was aroused； and the car； packed full of people； expressed
their appreciation by round after round of applause。 It is evident that
Mrs。 Nation is quite popular in that part of the country。
The song is as follows：
Hurrah； Samantha； Mrs。 Nation is in town！
So get on your bonnet and your Sunday…meeting gown。
Oh； I am so blamed excited I am hopping up and down；
Hurrah； Samantha； Carrie Nation is in town！
Get you ready； we are going to the city；
Where the 〃Home Defenders〃 are all feeling gay；
And the mothers all exclaiming； 〃Its a pity
That Carrie Nation does not come here every day。〃
I want to hear that mirror…smashing music；
And to look in Mrs。 Nation's blessed face；
And to see the saloon men all cavorting
With that hatchet bringing sadness to their face。
Hurrah； Samantha； Mrs。 Nation is in town！
So wear your brightest bonnet and your alapaca gown。
Oh； I am so jubilated I'm a…hopping up and down；
Hurrah！ hurrah！ Samantha； Mrs。 Nation is in town。
OUTCAST。
（Found in manuscript among the personal effects of a prostitute； 22
years of age； who died in the Commercial Hospital； Cincinnati； O。）
Once I was pure as the snow； but I fell；
Fell like the snowflakes from heaven to hell；
Fell to be trampled as filth on the street
Fell to be scoffed； to be spit on and beat；
Pleadingcursingdreading to die；
Selling my soul to whoever would buy；
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread；
Hating the living and fearing the dead。
Merciful God； have I fallen so low？
And yet I was once like the beautiful snow。
Once I was fair as the beautiful snow；
With an eye like a crystal； a heart like its glow；
Once I was loved for my innocent grace
Flattered and sought for the charms of my face！
Fathers；mothers；sisters；all；
God and myself have I lost by my fall；
The veriest wretch that goes shivering by；
Will make a wide sweep lest I wander too nigh；
For all that in on or above me I know；
There is nothing so pure as the beautiful snow。
How strange it should be that this beautiful snow
Should fall on a sinner with nowhere to go！
How strange it should be when the night comes again；
If the snow and the ice struck my desperate brain。
Fainting；freezing；dying alone；
Too wicked for prayer； too weak for a moan；
To be heard in the streets of the crazy town；
Gone mad in the joy of the snow coming down；
To be and to die in my terrible woe；
With a bed and shroud of the beautiful snow。
Helpless and foul as the trampled snow
Sinner； despair not！ Christ stoopeth low
To rescue the soul that is lost in sin；
And raise it to life and enjoyment again。
Groaningbleedingdying for thee
The crucified hung on the cursed tree；
His accent of mercy fell soft on thine ear；
〃Is there mercy for me？ Will He heed my weak prayer？〃
O； God！ in the stream that for sinners did flow；
Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow。
THE LIPS THAT TOUCH LIQUOR MUST
NEVER TOUCH MINE。
You are coming to woo me； but not as of yore；
For I hastened to welcome your ring at the door；
For I trusted that he； who stood waiting for me then；
Was the brightest； the noblest； the truest of men。
Your lips on my own when they printed 〃Farewell；〃
Had never been soiled by the 〃Beverage of Hell；〃
But they come to me now with the bacchanal sign；
And the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine。
I think of that night； in the garden alone；
When whispering you told me your heart was my own；
That your love in the future should faithfully be；
Unshared by another； kept only for me。
Oh sweet to my soul is the memory still；
Of the lips that met mine when they murmured 〃I will；〃
But now to their pleasure no more I incline；
For the lips that touch liquor must never touch mine。
O； John！ How
