 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
THE FATAL CUP.
Each nerve thrills within me with sharp apprehension,
My brain-strings are drawn to their uttermost tension,
And my heart flutters painful as though it would break,
When I see some incautious teetotaller take
And recklessly swallow, apparently suited,
A huge draught of water, and that undiluted.
'Tis not but cold water is excellent when
It is kept in its place, like a bull in a pen—
Good when it comes from the heavens in rain,
Good when in mist it goes upward again,
Good for the meadows to freshen their green,
Good in the laundry where linen they clean;
Good for all fish, and convenient to swim in;
Good in the tea-pot of tattling old women;
Good in the rivulet frolicking free,
Better in rivers, and best in the sea;
Good for all purposes fitting, I think;
But not a good liquor for people to drink;
And, as its vile history sadly I trace,
And its evil effects as the scourge of our race,
I cry—“Ah! no water—no water for me,
It may do for the tremulous, old debauchee
Who, having got tipsy last night after supper,
Must have it this morning to cool his hot copper;
A small glass of whiskey (old Blue Grass) for me,
And water bestow on the old debauchee!”
My brain-strings are drawn to their uttermost tension,
And my heart flutters painful as though it would break,
When I see some incautious teetotaller take
And recklessly swallow, apparently suited,
A huge draught of water, and that undiluted.
'Tis not but cold water is excellent when
It is kept in its place, like a bull in a pen—
Good when it comes from the heavens in rain,
Good when in mist it goes upward again,
Good for the meadows to freshen their green,
Good in the laundry where linen they clean;
Good for all fish, and convenient to swim in;
Good in the tea-pot of tattling old women;
Good in the rivulet frolicking free,
Better in rivers, and best in the sea;
Good for all purposes fitting, I think;
But not a good liquor for people to drink;
And, as its vile history sadly I trace,
And its evil effects as the scourge of our race,
I cry—“Ah! no water—no water for me,
It may do for the tremulous, old debauchee
Who, having got tipsy last night after supper,
Must have it this morning to cool his hot copper;
A small glass of whiskey (old Blue Grass) for me,
And water bestow on the old debauchee!”
490
No particular horror of water I feel,
When placed in conjunction with soap of Castile,
For when properly used on the membrane external,
It never develops its nature infernal,
And no poison through pores to your system gets in,
If the liquid be carefully wiped from the skin;
'Tis its getting inside that such misery brings—
From drinking the stuff your unhappiness springs;
Anasarca it causes and kidney disease;
It softens the brain, and it weakens the knees;
It makes in the frame an anæmic condition,
Which grabs the poor patient and mocks the physician;
Gastrocnemial and cubital muscles it dwindles,
Till legs look like broomsticks and arms shrink to spindles;
The skin wilts and wrinkles, except when the dropsy
Swells the wretch like a bladder, and death brings autopsy;
The blood with no whiskey to keep up its color
Has its corpuscules whitened, its current made duller;
The water pernicious the chilled stomach filling,
And poured in amount on a membrane unwilling,
Debases the gastric juice so that it loses
All power to dissolve your best food in its oozes;
And therefore it follows, past cavil or question,
That drinking cold water creates indigestion;
And, since indigestion breeds crime and fierce quarrels,
This tippling cold water corrupts public morals.
When placed in conjunction with soap of Castile,
For when properly used on the membrane external,
It never develops its nature infernal,
And no poison through pores to your system gets in,
If the liquid be carefully wiped from the skin;
'Tis its getting inside that such misery brings—
From drinking the stuff your unhappiness springs;
Anasarca it causes and kidney disease;
It softens the brain, and it weakens the knees;
It makes in the frame an anæmic condition,
Which grabs the poor patient and mocks the physician;
Gastrocnemial and cubital muscles it dwindles,
Till legs look like broomsticks and arms shrink to spindles;
The skin wilts and wrinkles, except when the dropsy
Swells the wretch like a bladder, and death brings autopsy;
The blood with no whiskey to keep up its color
Has its corpuscules whitened, its current made duller;
The water pernicious the chilled stomach filling,
And poured in amount on a membrane unwilling,
Debases the gastric juice so that it loses
All power to dissolve your best food in its oozes;
And therefore it follows, past cavil or question,
That drinking cold water creates indigestion;
And, since indigestion breeds crime and fierce quarrels,
This tippling cold water corrupts public morals.
It might be less dangerous, that I admit,
If largely pure whiskey were mingled with it,
For in that way the force of the poison you'll foil;
But, consider—the whiskey you'd utterly spoil;
Besides, while the mixture tastes strangely and badly,
Water added to whiskey intoxicates sadly,
And perhaps in the end it might make you a sot,
Which the whiskey, unwatered, would certainly not.
I know there are some who, while owning the ills
The water-sot finds from his crime ere it kills,
Still think water harmless in moderate use—
Ah! nature is weak, and that leads to abuse.
It is perilous with the chained tiger to play;
Though lightning has never yet struck you, it may;
And he is the safer and healthier, I think,
Who totally abstains from all water as drink,
And is full of the thought that while making him sadder,
It bites like a serpent, and stings like an adder.
Neither taste, touch, nor handle the terrible thing;
For safety to whiskey and that only cling;
Eat the best of good victuals, and pat to the minute;
Take your liquor bare-headed, with no water in it;
And, to keep up your health, and promote your sobriety,
Sign the pledge of the Anti-Coldwater Society.
If largely pure whiskey were mingled with it,
For in that way the force of the poison you'll foil;
But, consider—the whiskey you'd utterly spoil;
Besides, while the mixture tastes strangely and badly,
Water added to whiskey intoxicates sadly,
And perhaps in the end it might make you a sot,
Which the whiskey, unwatered, would certainly not.
491
The water-sot finds from his crime ere it kills,
Still think water harmless in moderate use—
Ah! nature is weak, and that leads to abuse.
It is perilous with the chained tiger to play;
Though lightning has never yet struck you, it may;
And he is the safer and healthier, I think,
Who totally abstains from all water as drink,
And is full of the thought that while making him sadder,
It bites like a serpent, and stings like an adder.
Neither taste, touch, nor handle the terrible thing;
For safety to whiskey and that only cling;
Eat the best of good victuals, and pat to the minute;
Take your liquor bare-headed, with no water in it;
And, to keep up your health, and promote your sobriety,
Sign the pledge of the Anti-Coldwater Society.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |