I saw a Christian, a temperance man,
Casting his ballot one day at the polls:
One who believes he does what he can
Toward the reclaiming and saving of souls.
And may be he does-may be he does!
I don’t say he doesn’t, but may be he does!
I saw his candidate sipping his beer,
Wiping his moustache and lapping his jaws;
And I said to myself, ‘It’s decidedly queer,
If this is the man that should help make our laws.’
But may be he is-may be he is!
I won’t say it outright, but may be he is!
I saw an old drunkard fall in the street:
I saw my Christian man mournfully pass,
And mournfully say to the sot at his feet:
‘I have done what I could for such wrecks, but, alas!’
Well, may be he had-may be he had!
I don’t say he hadn’t, but may be he had!
I know a party that’s forming to-day,
Made out of men that are loyal and brave:
They will sweep liquor taxes and tariffs away,
For they never will vote for a drinking old knave.
You see if they do! you see if they do!
I don’t say I know, but you see if they do!
