A COLLECTION SONG

Kind friends, we thank you, one and all,

For giving such attention,

While we've arraigned Old Alcohol,

And of his faults made mention.

And if you'd like to see him now

Put “in a pretty pickle,”

Just lend a hand and help us on

By giving us a nickel.

He stalks the earth from east to west,

A deal of mischief doing;

But we are “on the war-path” now,

Old Alcohol pursuing.

So if you'd like to see him caught

And punished for his crime, sir,

Just lend a hand and help us on

By tossing us a dime, sir.

He robs our homes of peace and joy;

He fills the land with sighing;

Sets snares and pitfalls for our feet,

( He'd better be a-dying. )

So if you think he should be slain,

As we believe he'd or'ter,

Just lend a hand and help us on

By handing out a quarter.

He boasts himself a King — by law

And license well protected;

But now “the children are a-field”

We'll have him soon ejected.

So if you'd see us tackle him,

And take him by the collar,

Just lend a hand and help us on

By dropping in a dollar.