John Pierpont

Hymns and Odes for Temperance Occasions X

 Next Poem          

Says Jonathan, says he, "To-day
I will be independent,
And so my grog I'll throw away,
And that shall be the end on't.
Clear the house! the 'tarnal stuff
Shan't be here so handy;
Wife has given the winds her snuff,
So now here goes my brandy!



Chorus.
Clear the house, &c.


"Our fathers, though a sturdy folk,
Were sometimes rayther skittish;
And so they wouldn't wear the yoke
Brought over by the British.
Yonder, on old Bunker's head,
From their necks they shook it;
There they fired off all their lead,
And then they had to hook it.



Chorus.
Yonder, on, &c.


"But though they fit and run away,
They warn't a bit o' cowards;
They lived to fight another day,
When lookin' Gin'ral Howe-wards.
What could then the Gin'ral do
For his own salvation?
Why, he 'cussed and quit' the u-
nivarsal Yankee nation.



Chorus.
What could then, &c.


"The tyrant that our fathers smoked
Lay skulkin' in a tea-pot;
There's now 'a worser' to be choked,
In bottle, jug, or wee pot;
Often in a glass he shows
What he calls his 'body';
And often wades, up to his nose,
In a bowl of toddy.



Chorus.
Often in a glass, &c.


"Sometimes he creeps up, through the slim
Stem of a very fine pipe;
And sometimes plunges, for a swim,
All over in a wine-pipe;
But, he's tickled, most of all,
When he hears the summons
Down his favorite pipes to crawl,--
The wind-pipes of the rum-uns.



Chorus.
But, he's tickled, &c.


"And when he gets the upper hand,--
This tyrant, base and scurvy,--
He strips a man of house and land,
And turns him topsy-turvy.
Neck and heels he binds him fast,
And says that he is his'n;
But lets him have, rent free, at last,
A poor-house or a prison.



Chorus.
Neck and heels, &c.


"And now," says Jonathan, "towards Rum
I'm desperate unforgivin';
The tyrant, never more, shall come
Into 'the house I live in.'
Kindred spirits, too, shall in-
to outer darkness go forth;
Whisky, Toddy, Julep, Gin,
Brandy, Beer, and so forth.



Chorus.
Kindred spirits, &c.


"While this COLD WATER fills my cup,
Duns dare not assail me;
Sheriffs shall not lock me up,
Nor my neighbours bail me;
Lawyers will I never let
'Choose me as defendant';
Till to death I pay my debt,
I will be independent."



Chorus.
Lawyers will I never let, &c.

Next Poem 

 Back to John Pierpont