  Shall Women vote? Shall Demon Rum survive Or be, thru Woman Suffrage, flayed alive? These are the questions that engross the nation: Shall Women vote or be kept on probation? Are they not gentle, honest, sweet and kind? A single missing virtue we can't find, And yet we say—"Stay home and can the cherries! You're far too frail and fine for statecraft worries! The Sacred Home for you! Just 'tend your chicks! You'd soil your hands to mix in Politics! And then there's scrubbing, cooking and a few Odd jobs besides: you couldn't ballot too!" But how absurd! Fair Woman, in her wrath, Will make our future course a thorny path: Unless we meet her fairly in these matters, She'll tear our senseless arguments to tatters, And rule both Home and State to suit herself, Putting deceitful man upon the shelf. As sure as death or taxes, day or night, She'll have the vote without, or with a fight; And those of us who counsel Peace, as best, Should not oppose and put her to the test; And when she gets the vote, by force or gift, The clouds obscuring Temperance will lift; For all the Wets will vanish, ev'ry one! Evaporate like mists before the sun. True, Women drink; it's foolish to deny it! But not as men do—as a steady diet; They'll take a punch, or sip a little claret, But when it comes to liquor—they can't bear it. And so we ask again—shall Women vote? Shall men surrender to the petticoat And give up all their freedom and their tipples Just to return to Lacteal Life and Nipples? The War is on! Nebraska bids defiance To Rum Dispensers and the Booze Alliance: Hereafter all our barley, wheat and corn Will be quite unresponsive to the horn. The essence of the grain will be tabooed And ev'ry seed accounted for as food. No more will Barleycorn assail our vitals Or be the Leader in our Song Recitals: No more will Liquor check our ardent thirst, And so we'll go from bad, perhaps, to worst. If we must eat, perforce, and never rum it, What will befall the man who has to gum it; Whose teeth are absent and who food eschews, Drawing his daily nourishment from booze; Who can't obtain a single drop of gin To comfort and sustain the man within? Pleading for drinks, unheeded he'll grow wheezy, But he'll improve his breath if he'll Speak Easy. The Drunkard's fate would be a dreadful warning, Who, having "opened" Riley's place each morning Found, one cold dawn, the foot-rail gone and read— "Soft Drinks for Sale" where Schnapps was sold instead. Picture his sorrow! See him pallid grow When told the facts: a spectacle of woe! Back to his wife he slinks: he couldn't face her! Because he missed his usual "morning bracer." The Place is sold: it's now a candy store Where Schnapps will be dispensed with evermore. Good-bye, Old Demijohn; Decanters, too! His life will empty be—and so are you! Where once the Canteen flourished 'neath our flag, Now Prohibition flags the soldier's jag; And where Josephus keeps his arid log The water-pitcher has succeeded grog. Some Commonwealths already have the pluck To ban, humanely, those who chase the duck; And other States have punished Rum enough To have compassion on the boot-leg stuff. Thus Prohibition grows: but so does wheat And corn and rye: I wonder which will beat? But what of Woman? Where's her rightful freedom? They ought to have the vote, because we need 'em To purge our land of drunkenness and crime And save our striplings from the slough and slime. Why shouldn't Women vote? Perhaps they may! Should Drunkards or Illiterates say nay? Could citizens of foreign birth refuse To give our Native Daughters what they choose? Our Native Sons with chivalry invoke Fair play for women,—freedom from the yoke; And shouldn't other Freemen rise in flocks To help our Women win the Ballot Box? The trouble lies, not here, but with the Bosses Who trade in graft and deal in double crosses. The sooner we eliminate this class The quicker will full freedom come to pass. But watch the Anti! Make her hold her tongue, Or duck her in the pond, the geese among; Or lock her in the booth, without a mirror, Where she can't see herself and we can't hear her. Thus, neck and neck, these two great questions lead: Will men be equal to their Country's need? If one Reform upon the other waits, Speed Equal Suffrage to the White House gates, And Prohibition (Farewell, Dear old Liquor!) Will follow as the tape pursues the ticker! But if, perchance, the Dry's should get a trimmin', Smile, if you please,—but don't prohibit Women! |
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