!
Distilling and Brewing
Must work our undoing
_When branches of mere Toxicology_!
Good malt, hop, and grape, though fermented,
May leave a man well and contented,
But poisons infernal
(See any Trade Journal!)
Drive decent souls drunk and demented.
_Verb. sap._! You'll, excuse the suggestion.
They soften brains, ruin digestion;
Sap body and soul,
In the (drugged) Flowing Bowl.
There, Doctor, 's the real Drink Question!
Meanwhile, _Punch_ admires your plain speaking.
Enough of evasion and sneaking!
Let fact, logic stout,
And sound pluck fight it out.
Truth's "at home" to right valorous seeking.
Of course, my dear Doctor, you'll catch it.
The Pump is aggressive; you match it.
Whoever proves right,
Your pluck starts a good fight,
And _Punch_ is delighted to watch it!
* * * * *
THE CONQUERED "WORTH."
(_SOME WAY AFTER POE'S_ "_CONQUEROR WORM_.")
[Illustration]
["When women no longer interest themselves in silks and
satins, ribbons and furbelows, it will be an infallible sign
that the great drama of humanity is at length played out, and
that the lights are to be turned down, and the house left to
silence and the dark."--_Daily Chronicle_.]
I.
Lo! 'tis a gala night
Within the "Rational" latter years!
A female throng, dowdy, bedight
In veils, and drowned in tears,
Sits in a theatre, to see
A play of hopes and fears,
Whilst the orchestra breathes fitfully
The music of the spheres.
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