O, McDermott, you look healthy,
Your dress looks neat and clean;
I never see you drunk about,
Pray tell me where you’ve been.
Your wife and family are all well,
You once did use them strange;
O, have you kinder to them grown?
How come ts happy change ?
It was a dream--a warning voice,
That Heaven sent to me,
To snatch me from a drunkard’s curse,
Grim want and misery;
My money was all spent in drink--
O, what a wretched view--
I almost broke my Mary’s heart,
And starved my children, too.
What was my home or wife to me ?
I heeded not her sighs;
Her patient smile had welcomed me,
While tears bedewed her eyes,
My children they had oft awoke,
And "Father, dear, " had said,
"Poor Mother has been weeping so,
Because we had no bread."
My Mary’s form did waste away,
I saw her sunken eye,
My babes on straw in sickness lay,
I heard their wailing cry.
Yet I laughed and sand in drunkard’s joy,
While Mary’s tears did stream,
Then like a beast I fell asleep,
And had this warning dream:
I dreamt once more I staggered home,
There seemed a solemn gloom,
I missed my wife--where can she be--
And strangers in the room.
I heard them say, "Poor thing, she’s dead !
She lead a wretched life;
Grief and want have broken her heart,
Who would be a drunkards wife ?"
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