For a Band of Hope Girls
My pretty Puss so full of play,
Chases the withered leaves away,
And sings & canters half the day;
But not a drop of wine or whiskey
Has made my nimble Pet so frisky,
Just new milk strings her up to this key!
And there’s my Lambic, Wooly Coat,
Who clinks the ledges like a goat,
No squirrel gailies skips about;
He never went to school, like Luey’s,
But knows too much to suck the juices
That make a fool of him who uses.
Old Biddy is a sober hen,
She raises chickens, now & then;
Just now she’s scratching round for ten;
But not a sip of “Soothing Sirup,
Or “Teething Drops” she gets to cheer up
Their little hearts, or quicken her up!
Grey Goosey marches to the pool
Her little toddling infant school, –
Green-yellow puffs of berlin wool!
She’s not the goose to dose her litter
With “S.Y.X” = rum, as “Kostetler’s,”
Or anybody’s whiskey “Bitters.”
My Bossy — well, he is a daff,
A clever, clundering, blundering calf,
Whose clumsy fun would make you laugh:
He’s wises though than Tom & Dick are,
No punch to make his dull head thicker,
He takes his milk without the liquor.
So all my pretty Pets are true
Teetotalers as I am too; –
I’d be ashamed to be & do
Less good than Puss, & Laugh, & Biddy,
And Goosey grey, & Bossy giddy, –
They do their best, but Man — When did he?
My Pets