 | Verses of a life time |  |
197
THE OYSTER'S APPEAL TO THE PUBLIC.
O, come to my rescue, I'm prisoned up here
With mint-sling and julep, strong wine and strong beer;
I pant for cold water amid this foul air,—
Indeed it is more than an oyster can bear!
Then far from old hollands, vile cocktail and sling,
Dear public, in water your supplicant fling.
With mint-sling and julep, strong wine and strong beer;
I pant for cold water amid this foul air,—
Indeed it is more than an oyster can bear!
Then far from old hollands, vile cocktail and sling,
Dear public, in water your supplicant fling.
That my prison is gilded and costly, I know,
My windows are painted, my blinds make a show,
And my sign is the brightest the public eye greeting,
Ay, brighter than that at the “Temperance Meeting.”
But take me away from rum, cordial and sling,
And in water, cold water, your supplicant fling.
My windows are painted, my blinds make a show,
And my sign is the brightest the public eye greeting,
Ay, brighter than that at the “Temperance Meeting.”
But take me away from rum, cordial and sling,
And in water, cold water, your supplicant fling.
My curtains are gorgeous, my pictures are gay,
Bright glasses are rang'd in a splendid array;
And so great is the glare and the blazing at night,
That ladies stand tiptoe outside at the sight.
But take me away from this brandy and sling,
And into cold water your supplicant fling.
Bright glasses are rang'd in a splendid array;
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That ladies stand tiptoe outside at the sight.
But take me away from this brandy and sling,
And into cold water your supplicant fling.
Yet here are dark corners kept even from me,
Where they don't call for oysters, though “Mill Pond” they be;
Sometimes a wild curse mutters out of the den,
And tones like the anguish of agonized men.
Then take me away from wine-cobblers and sling
And into the water your supplicant fling.
Where they don't call for oysters, though “Mill Pond” they be;
Sometimes a wild curse mutters out of the den,
And tones like the anguish of agonized men.
Then take me away from wine-cobblers and sling
And into the water your supplicant fling.
That sign on the front is no title of mine,
Call it gin house, or beer house, or shambles for wine;
We innocent oysters, no longer, in sooth,
Shall be cat's-paws for drunkards, or gins to catch youth.
So take me away from ale, cider and sling,
And into cold water your supplicant fling.
Call it gin house, or beer house, or shambles for wine;
We innocent oysters, no longer, in sooth,
Shall be cat's-paws for drunkards, or gins to catch youth.
So take me away from ale, cider and sling,
And into cold water your supplicant fling.
But hark, all the pipes and the quarter casks grumble,
Fourth proof and brown stout seem around me to tumble,
Old holland turns pale, and the wine on the lees
Looks thick like a drunkard just after his sprees;
There 's a riotous time with port, sherry and sling,
O, into cold water, your supplicant fling.
Fourth proof and brown stout seem around me to tumble,
Old holland turns pale, and the wine on the lees
Looks thick like a drunkard just after his sprees;
There 's a riotous time with port, sherry and sling,
O, into cold water, your supplicant fling.
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My keeper seems nervous, and swears 'neath his breath,
That times are so dull we shall all starve to death,
I pity you, master, your teeth are on edge,
For custom runs low since the Temperance Pledge.
Then pray, gentle public, just give me a fling
To water-laved beds, where the oyster race cling.
That times are so dull we shall all starve to death,
I pity you, master, your teeth are on edge,
For custom runs low since the Temperance Pledge.
Then pray, gentle public, just give me a fling
To water-laved beds, where the oyster race cling.
But if you must eat me, be merciful, do,
And don't let me live with this dram-drinking crew.
Why, even an oyster is wiser than those
Who revel and shout where the full goblet flows;
Who stagger, and totter, and gibber and swear,
Or sit with their idiot-eyes in a glare.
And don't let me live with this dram-drinking crew.
Why, even an oyster is wiser than those
Who revel and shout where the full goblet flows;
Who stagger, and totter, and gibber and swear,
Or sit with their idiot-eyes in a glare.
So give us a temple, if worthy to eat,
Where the modest and honest can come for a treat,
And pull down the blinds, and unpaint all the glasses,
And look out like men when the traveller passes.
And then your poor oysters will fatten, and I,
In an honest vocation, will willingly die.
Where the modest and honest can come for a treat,
And pull down the blinds, and unpaint all the glasses,
And look out like men when the traveller passes.
And then your poor oysters will fatten, and I,
In an honest vocation, will willingly die.
Charleston, S. C. 1844.
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