He was evidently a farmer
with a large stock of mother-wit. He was lame, and limped into the
car, and hopped up and down while he sang. A great deal of merry
enthusiasm was aroused, and the car, packed full of people, expressed
their appreciation by round after round of applause. It is evident that
Mrs. Nation is quite popular in that part of the country.
The song is as follows:
Hurrah, Samantha, Mrs. Nation is in town!
So get on your bonnet and your Sunday-meeting gown.
Oh, I am so blamed excited I am hopping up and down,
Hurrah, Samantha, Carrie Nation is in town!
Get you ready, we are going to the city,
Where the "Home Defenders" are all feeling gay,
And the mothers all exclaiming, "Its a pity
That Carrie Nation does not come here every day."
I want to hear that mirror-smashing music,
And to look in Mrs. Nation's blessed face,
And to see the saloon men all cavorting
With that hatchet bringing sadness to their face.
Hurrah, Samantha, Mrs. Nation is in town!
So wear your brightest bonnet and your alapaca gown.
Oh, I am so jubilated I'm a-hopping up and down,
Hurrah! hurrah! Samantha, Mrs. Nation is in town.
OUTCAST.
(Found in manuscript among the personal effects of a prostitute, 22
years of age, who died in the Commercial Hospital, Cincinnati, O.)
Once I was pure as the snow, but I fell,
Fell like the snowflakes from heaven to hell;
Fell to be trampled as filth on the street
Fell to be scoffed, to be spit on and beat;
Pleading--cursing--dreading to die,
Selling my soul to whoever would buy,
Dealing in shame for a morsel of bread,
Hating the living and fearing the dead.
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