The Drink Question
[From Truth, April 7, 1915.]
Sir Topas Port, in angry sort,
A scowl upon his forehead,
Relieved his chest, of wrath possessed,
In words distinctly torrid;
His brows were raised, his eyes they blazed,
His nose inclined to florid.
"Disgraceful state! That we must wait
For guns and ammunition,
Because—Great Scott!—men play the sot
And ruin their condition.
Low, drunken swine! If power were mine,
I'd teach 'em their position!
"I'd close the pubs and workmen's clubs—
What says that Welshman feller?
All drink tabooed? Alike preclude
Mile-Ender and Pall-Maller?
Good-bye! Can't stay. I must away
Post haste to stock my cellar."