The Lincoln County leader. [volume] (White Oaks, Lincoln County, N.M.) 1882-189?, 1883-01-27
PARsoN BLooMFIELD's EXPER.
INTENT.

AuA4NA 4
by a. 7. oRDEN
Parson Bloomfeld's soul was narrowed by
the scenes he heard portrayed
BY a l-atc-convcrted drunkard, who had
taken up reform
And the Parson burned with envy at the
converts that he made
BY telling his experience, he could take
"A town 10y storm.
But the Porson, through his wcll-spent
life, had never drank II drop;
His youth nor manhood never knew the
nature of asprec;
Nor yet the taste of whiskcy, wine, or
sleep-compclling hop
SO in our modern temperance work ne
had no chance, you see.
lie envied Coughs %recitals Of his pleasant
jamborecs,
And Francis Murphy's bloody tales
that made the crowd turn pale;
lie watched Kent Mason weeping, till the
dampncss made him sneczc,
And then he saw his temperate life had
made his lectures fail.
How could he Of the jim jams or blood
poison wisely speak,
Or stories tell Of early days, when he
was called a tough?
About appetite and habit he could see
where he was weak,
SO he got jug of whiskcy, just to try
the pesky stuff.
Then with secrecy conveyed it to his room
on the third floor,
Where, alone and unmolested, all its
workings he could see;
Threw the door-kcy out of window, after
locking fast the door,
Then with honesty of purpose went in
for Il trial spree,
Soon the Parsons peaceful ncighbors,
passing down the village street.
Stopped in wonder at his doorway, with
their interest agog;
For they heard songs bacchanalian roared
in snatches far from sweet,
Mingled with a sound of dancing in a
heavy donble-c!og.
While they gazcdin CONSERVATION, scarce.
ly knowing what to think,
The devils got the Parson," said q
deacon, with a nod;
Then the Parson raised Il window, danced
a moment on the brink,
Then. whooping like an Indian, clam
bered down the lightniug-rod.
To say the neighbors scattered, would be
fooling words away;
They flew in all directions, with such
unanimity
That the Parson occupied the town, will
none tosay him nay,
And took up both sides Of the street tC
carry on his spree.
He broke some windows, killed a dog, anC
stole an overcoat,
Crawlcd over piles of ashes, and colidet
with a dray,
Got two black eyes from rowdics whom
he tackled by the throat,
And kissed an Irish cook he caught, toe
fat to get away.
They ran him in along towards night, tn,
wonder Of the town,
His spcctaclcs smashed on his nose, hi
coat split up the back,
His hat pulled down below his ears, ant
minus of its crown,
With maps of Egypt ON his face, tn,
scat of war in black.
What use to tell them that his spree wa.
an experiment,
Designed to set his temperance worl
with startling facts ablaze?
The justice winked, and touched his nos,
with thumb and finger bent,
And with a smile of pity, sent him VI
for thirty days.
Which makes me moralize that we set tot
much store, perhaps,
On modern temperance lectures givel
by some pimpled sot,
And put a premium upon crime, ant
slight these quiet chaps
Who never murdered families, anC
mourn because thcy'v We not.
IT'S wrong TO beat your grocer
Out Of his honest dues,
It's worse to beat the cobblcr
Out of his boots and shoes.
There is a chance of pardon
Forhim who steals your coal,
But he who beats the printer