  Having enjoyed our quarrels, before we pause, Let us take a look at your Sunday laws. In olden time Sabbath breaking was a crime Of such deep hue, that if anything you do On that blessed day, even to earn a dime, By shoveling snow, just about the time, You begin to know that you must explore For a little bread to keep wolf from your door. Now the reason they did pense, for making that offense, As I divine the most heinous of their time; Was, that of all the days, it only took six, For God the funds to raise and no plans to mix, To build heaven and earth and all stars to fix; And that the job was all finished so good, By sundown Saturday night, as they understood, That on Sunday He had nothing left to do; So the Lord had to rest, and now must you. If mistaken in the reasons as to me it looks, Plenty of Sunday laws are found in your statute books; And you can read them all yourself, By taking them off their shelf. But all those laws have now grown so very old, And all the pages that them do hold, Are all stuck together with moss and rust, So that if you really and truly must, Take a look at them yourself to see if they are just, It would be better to hire some old maid or hag, Who would supply herself with a dust brush and rag From their pages to scrub away the mold of decay. Every few years, say one in ten, Some one or two of our fanatic men, Or some great big oratorical fellow, Who imagines that with all ease he can bellow, And scare the boys their toys to put away, On the holy, blessed Sabbath day. As once happened in my own native state, In almost a comparatively modern date. This oratorical man became prosecutor of the law; And he began in earnest to apply his jaw. He gave us such a jar, that it was hard a cigar, Or even a loaf of bread to get near or far. Finally this one did his feathers plume, And a race for Congress he began to assume; Thinking that trip he could easily fly. We then commenced to sing “as in days gone by,” Before he was walking about our doors stalking, Upon our heads to precipitate his wrath, To keep us all in the old straight and narrow path. In not such an awfully long time, we awoke to find, That by somebody’s nudge, our man was criminal judge. Dead sure now was he that he could scare all the boys away From everything that looked like work or even play, On the Sabbath day, and being in the lurch, Haply a number would stumble into church, When the choir began to sing and the coin to ring In the collection box handed around by a sly fox. Criminal informations for men in every station, Who in his estimation, were the Sabbath breaking, And the church forsaking, issued from his court, Patiently did the folks go their bails, And barely kept them out of our jails, Till the humane change of venue came: Then alas for his fame, nothing but blame, For his services lent, and the people’s money spent. By simple non-use laws may die, in the public eye. When they go out of date, there is no need to legislate; They are always considered as off the slate. So let all our captives out with joy and glee, And let us learn one thing from the Man of Galilee, That the Sabbath was made for man.
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