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A Plea to Yoters.
you noble voters,
I pray you lend an ear;
Let's have more food and clothing,
And less of rum and beer.
The brewers they have heaped their cash; The pile looms up each year,
But the wife and children have been robbed, By their sale of rum and beer.
They say their business is upright!
And must the brewers rule the vote, Of our blood-bought country dear; While weeping mothers see their sons Cast down by rum and beer?
There's many questions that are great.
For the vital one, to save our land
The cry goes up on every hand,
If he was the one that suffered all,
The curse would not be half so great,
We see a solid wall of shops filled
Yet brewer's say 'tis not a crime
A PLEA TO VOTERS.
yet two hundred drunkards
Die each day.
Without a sigh from the men who slew,
Men are crying, regulate, regulate the law! Why don't you regulate a well-known ague chill,
The only way to deal with both,
Just use a sure and certain pill.
For years they tried to compromise,
But then as now, there was a curse,
Till Abram took his pen and said,
Our glorious flag a-floating o'er,
If there's any truth or justice,