Tom and Bet, a Temperance Ballad
A TEMPERANCE BALLAD .
1.
Sing, milkwhite Muse, who water pure
Drink'st from the living well!
Sing cant and poison'd gin, on earth;
In heav'n, tee-total; maniac mirth,
And fire for drink, in hell.
2.
Devout and wet Tom Bragg and Bet
Left Shields for Sheffield town,
Where long in Scotland-street they dwell
Brawl'd, fuddled, fought, held forth, and knelt
With canters of renown.
3.
He, loth and late, to tippling took;
And if his Bet had been
A mere gin-swilling termagant,
He might, though noos'd to brawl and cant,
Some pleasant days have seen.
4.
For both won praise from fools and rogues;
They both could scrawl their cross;
Both thought they hated books and schools;
Both follow'd cunning's good old rules,
Like Bentinck and Chandos.
5.
But though all sugar to all else,
Whate'er her mood or whim,
A punctual curse and misery,
A living gizzard-grater she
Had ever been to him.
6.
" Beautiful once, though pale, she was; "
So praiseful Tom oft' said:
Oh, lily, much thy fate I rue!
What poison mingled with the dew
That turn'd thy paleness red?
7.
Oft', oft' in tears, her foes allow,
She mourn'd her willing fall,
And wish'd to mend — for she was proud;
As if a sad and hopeless cloud
Its rainbow would recall!
8.
Drunk was she never! yet most drunk
From sunday morn till night!
She wax'd in spirit that day through;
And turn'd, ere noon, her inside blue
With gin, and cordial light.
9.
And still, the more she drank, the more
She curs'd poor Tom in pray'r,
And sought the Lord! because she found,
When Tom brought home his weekly pound,
A fiery presence there.
10.
But when the weekly pound was spent,
(For credit they had none,)
Her dear tee-total pledge she kept,
And dryly for short-comings wept,
Till long dry days were gone.
11.
" Some wives had sober husbands! " sobb'd
The all-wrong'd sufferer:
" Her doom was want! she toil'd for nought,
She had no children! her sot brought
Nothing but shame to her! "
12.
Musical as Apollo's lyre
Was Betty in her drink;
So eloquently musical
That she, at last, from Tom took all
Wise power to act or think.
13.
From heav'n, earth's death-freed cuckholds stoop'd
To hear her tuneful tongue;
They seem'd, while listening in sweet pain,
To live their married days again,
And feel their horns grow young.
14.
But to the saintliest them among
Her tones did represent
Psalm tunes, once heard on earth with pride;
Ruins of music! sanctified
By heav'n's pure element.
15.
One night, saint Wittol heard her pray,
And, cursing, pray so well,
That up he hook'd the shrew to heav'n;
Whereat, his sides with laughter riven,
Poor Tom went post to hell.
16.
Farthest apart are heav'n and hell,
And much he Bet abhor'd;
A cord he sought, a cord he found;
But having once been wedlock-bound,
Why try another cord?
17.
Farthest from heav'n deep hell may be,
The fact I'll not gainsay;
Farthest from her, he thought, was best;
So, daz'd with drink, and lack of rest,
He took the shortest way.
18.
But then th' Elysian Cuckholdry
Were struck with envy dumb;
For they could see their wives in hell
Mixing for Tom, with shout and yell,
A quart of gin and rum.
19.
Grim, o'er them smil'd the Lord of drams,
Old Satan. And he snuff'd
Up his hot nose hell's red-hot dust;
Save when black flames, with hideous gust,
Through short black pipe he puff'd.
20.
But when Tom gaz'd toward the drink,
The black pipe he withdrew
From his black gab, and with fierce greed,
Chaw'd a black-burning stenchful weed,
That in hell's black fire grew.
21.
Then, gave they to glad Tom the drink,
With shouts and shrieks of mirth:
In every voice, wet Bet he heard!
And swill'd till reeling hell appear'd
Like sabbath-night on earth.
22.
And well it might. For he beheld
Bet's leer in every hag's!
And winking Satan's hook'd blue nose,
Whene'er he snuffled, fell and rose
Exactly like Bet Bragg's!
23.
In thousand thousand forms once fair,
His loath'd and lost he met,
Glooming on him, with eyes so dull!
And faces, still how beautiful,
Grinn'd round him! like wet Bet.
24.
This ap'd her laughter, that her whine,
Her " bottle-swagger " some;
And all danc'd, sang, and brawl'd their best,
Resolv'd that their too lucky guest
Should find himself at home.
25.
Ruins of Beauty! terrible
And sad, and all like Bet!
Well might he gasp, when face to face,
Though sever'd wide by doom and space,
The death-disparted met!
26.
In circling dance, they welcomed him
To hell and glad Old Nick,
Pledging his gin and rum in cups
That glimmer'd through their downs and ups.
Like symbals flashing thick.
27.
" All Bets! " he said. But all drank fire,
Nor deem'd they did amiss;
Of fire, not gin, blue draughts they took!
Therefore pray'd Tom, " Saint Wittol, hook
Me up to Bet in bliss. "
28.
" Nay, " said the Saint. Nor would he send
Wet Bet to Tom below;
Though when she saw his lifted quart
Of rum and gin, with bursting heart
She sobb'd her wish to go.
29.
Alas, th' Elysian Cuckholdry
Nor hollands sipp'd nor rum!
To them no widow, wife, or maid,
Ev'n in Elysiam, sweetly said,
Or look'd, or beckon'd, " Come! "
30.
But from the hour when Tom and Bet
On earth gave up the ghost,
They there were miss'd by young and old;
While pious souls, who liquors sold,
Did mourn and miss them most.
31.
And thenceforth pothous'd Scotland-street
(Well-chapel'd, too, 'tis told,)
Seem'd calmer — sadden'd, as with thought;
And less like hell! though less devote
Than e'er it was of old.
32.
It is a street where coves are nurs'd
To be by jury tried;
For coves, on earth, shall never fail!
Therefore, we finish them in jail;
And Law is satisfied.
33.
Thus, when Sir Smug a beetle spies,
" A pill-box bring, " sighs he;
The box is brought, the rogue put in:
" Poor thing, to hurt it were a sin! "
And Smug smiles dreadfully.
34.
Yet there, thus pray'd a wretch, whose nose
(Once white and small,) had been
Turn'd big and blue by years of drink;
Then, by tee-total, green and pink;
And then, by famine, green.
35.
" Lord! grant to poor o'er-labour'd man
More leisure, and less pray'r;
More church, less priest — and homes for inns!
More libraries, and fewer sins;
More music, and less care!
36.
And when the tardy sabbath dawns,
Bid townsmen leave behind
The goldfinch, smother'd on his perch,
Gin-shop and chapel, jail and church,
And drink the mountain wind.
37.
Or teach the artisan to seek
Some village House of pray'r,
And kneel, (an apparition pale,
Amid the rustics red and hale,)
And humbly worship there.
38.
Or bid him (in the temple, built
By Skill Divine for all,)
Expound to pallid listeners near,
While rose-cheek'd pilgrims stop to hear,
The words of Christ or Paul.
39.
Oh, for the lightning's path, the wing
Of steam or fire, to bear
Tir'd men to Edens yet on earth,
Where mind may have its second birth,
And hope baptize despair!
40.
There, in lone shelter'd dales, amid
Their patriarchal trees,
Beneath the skylark's quivering wing,
Let parents, sons, and daughters sing
Great Handel's harmonies.
41.
Then, to the dome of boundless blue,
O'er-roofing sea and land,
Triumphant hope and faith will rise;
And with the anthems of the skies
Mingle their anthem grand.
42.
And sinners sav'd shall weep again
For sins repented long,
And broken-hearted, though forgiv'n,
Repeat in music-hallow'd heav'n
Earth's spirit-warbled song. "
1.
Sing, milkwhite Muse, who water pure
Drink'st from the living well!
Sing cant and poison'd gin, on earth;
In heav'n, tee-total; maniac mirth,
And fire for drink, in hell.
2.
Devout and wet Tom Bragg and Bet
Left Shields for Sheffield town,
Where long in Scotland-street they dwell
Brawl'd, fuddled, fought, held forth, and knelt
With canters of renown.
3.
He, loth and late, to tippling took;
And if his Bet had been
A mere gin-swilling termagant,
He might, though noos'd to brawl and cant,
Some pleasant days have seen.
4.
For both won praise from fools and rogues;
They both could scrawl their cross;
Both thought they hated books and schools;
Both follow'd cunning's good old rules,
Like Bentinck and Chandos.
5.
But though all sugar to all else,
Whate'er her mood or whim,
A punctual curse and misery,
A living gizzard-grater she
Had ever been to him.
6.
" Beautiful once, though pale, she was; "
So praiseful Tom oft' said:
Oh, lily, much thy fate I rue!
What poison mingled with the dew
That turn'd thy paleness red?
7.
Oft', oft' in tears, her foes allow,
She mourn'd her willing fall,
And wish'd to mend — for she was proud;
As if a sad and hopeless cloud
Its rainbow would recall!
8.
Drunk was she never! yet most drunk
From sunday morn till night!
She wax'd in spirit that day through;
And turn'd, ere noon, her inside blue
With gin, and cordial light.
9.
And still, the more she drank, the more
She curs'd poor Tom in pray'r,
And sought the Lord! because she found,
When Tom brought home his weekly pound,
A fiery presence there.
10.
But when the weekly pound was spent,
(For credit they had none,)
Her dear tee-total pledge she kept,
And dryly for short-comings wept,
Till long dry days were gone.
11.
" Some wives had sober husbands! " sobb'd
The all-wrong'd sufferer:
" Her doom was want! she toil'd for nought,
She had no children! her sot brought
Nothing but shame to her! "
12.
Musical as Apollo's lyre
Was Betty in her drink;
So eloquently musical
That she, at last, from Tom took all
Wise power to act or think.
13.
From heav'n, earth's death-freed cuckholds stoop'd
To hear her tuneful tongue;
They seem'd, while listening in sweet pain,
To live their married days again,
And feel their horns grow young.
14.
But to the saintliest them among
Her tones did represent
Psalm tunes, once heard on earth with pride;
Ruins of music! sanctified
By heav'n's pure element.
15.
One night, saint Wittol heard her pray,
And, cursing, pray so well,
That up he hook'd the shrew to heav'n;
Whereat, his sides with laughter riven,
Poor Tom went post to hell.
16.
Farthest apart are heav'n and hell,
And much he Bet abhor'd;
A cord he sought, a cord he found;
But having once been wedlock-bound,
Why try another cord?
17.
Farthest from heav'n deep hell may be,
The fact I'll not gainsay;
Farthest from her, he thought, was best;
So, daz'd with drink, and lack of rest,
He took the shortest way.
18.
But then th' Elysian Cuckholdry
Were struck with envy dumb;
For they could see their wives in hell
Mixing for Tom, with shout and yell,
A quart of gin and rum.
19.
Grim, o'er them smil'd the Lord of drams,
Old Satan. And he snuff'd
Up his hot nose hell's red-hot dust;
Save when black flames, with hideous gust,
Through short black pipe he puff'd.
20.
But when Tom gaz'd toward the drink,
The black pipe he withdrew
From his black gab, and with fierce greed,
Chaw'd a black-burning stenchful weed,
That in hell's black fire grew.
21.
Then, gave they to glad Tom the drink,
With shouts and shrieks of mirth:
In every voice, wet Bet he heard!
And swill'd till reeling hell appear'd
Like sabbath-night on earth.
22.
And well it might. For he beheld
Bet's leer in every hag's!
And winking Satan's hook'd blue nose,
Whene'er he snuffled, fell and rose
Exactly like Bet Bragg's!
23.
In thousand thousand forms once fair,
His loath'd and lost he met,
Glooming on him, with eyes so dull!
And faces, still how beautiful,
Grinn'd round him! like wet Bet.
24.
This ap'd her laughter, that her whine,
Her " bottle-swagger " some;
And all danc'd, sang, and brawl'd their best,
Resolv'd that their too lucky guest
Should find himself at home.
25.
Ruins of Beauty! terrible
And sad, and all like Bet!
Well might he gasp, when face to face,
Though sever'd wide by doom and space,
The death-disparted met!
26.
In circling dance, they welcomed him
To hell and glad Old Nick,
Pledging his gin and rum in cups
That glimmer'd through their downs and ups.
Like symbals flashing thick.
27.
" All Bets! " he said. But all drank fire,
Nor deem'd they did amiss;
Of fire, not gin, blue draughts they took!
Therefore pray'd Tom, " Saint Wittol, hook
Me up to Bet in bliss. "
28.
" Nay, " said the Saint. Nor would he send
Wet Bet to Tom below;
Though when she saw his lifted quart
Of rum and gin, with bursting heart
She sobb'd her wish to go.
29.
Alas, th' Elysian Cuckholdry
Nor hollands sipp'd nor rum!
To them no widow, wife, or maid,
Ev'n in Elysiam, sweetly said,
Or look'd, or beckon'd, " Come! "
30.
But from the hour when Tom and Bet
On earth gave up the ghost,
They there were miss'd by young and old;
While pious souls, who liquors sold,
Did mourn and miss them most.
31.
And thenceforth pothous'd Scotland-street
(Well-chapel'd, too, 'tis told,)
Seem'd calmer — sadden'd, as with thought;
And less like hell! though less devote
Than e'er it was of old.
32.
It is a street where coves are nurs'd
To be by jury tried;
For coves, on earth, shall never fail!
Therefore, we finish them in jail;
And Law is satisfied.
33.
Thus, when Sir Smug a beetle spies,
" A pill-box bring, " sighs he;
The box is brought, the rogue put in:
" Poor thing, to hurt it were a sin! "
And Smug smiles dreadfully.
34.
Yet there, thus pray'd a wretch, whose nose
(Once white and small,) had been
Turn'd big and blue by years of drink;
Then, by tee-total, green and pink;
And then, by famine, green.
35.
" Lord! grant to poor o'er-labour'd man
More leisure, and less pray'r;
More church, less priest — and homes for inns!
More libraries, and fewer sins;
More music, and less care!
36.
And when the tardy sabbath dawns,
Bid townsmen leave behind
The goldfinch, smother'd on his perch,
Gin-shop and chapel, jail and church,
And drink the mountain wind.
37.
Or teach the artisan to seek
Some village House of pray'r,
And kneel, (an apparition pale,
Amid the rustics red and hale,)
And humbly worship there.
38.
Or bid him (in the temple, built
By Skill Divine for all,)
Expound to pallid listeners near,
While rose-cheek'd pilgrims stop to hear,
The words of Christ or Paul.
39.
Oh, for the lightning's path, the wing
Of steam or fire, to bear
Tir'd men to Edens yet on earth,
Where mind may have its second birth,
And hope baptize despair!
40.
There, in lone shelter'd dales, amid
Their patriarchal trees,
Beneath the skylark's quivering wing,
Let parents, sons, and daughters sing
Great Handel's harmonies.
41.
Then, to the dome of boundless blue,
O'er-roofing sea and land,
Triumphant hope and faith will rise;
And with the anthems of the skies
Mingle their anthem grand.
42.
And sinners sav'd shall weep again
For sins repented long,
And broken-hearted, though forgiv'n,
Repeat in music-hallow'd heav'n
Earth's spirit-warbled song. "
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