27

Behold the Washingtonians.

By J. F. Coles.
Tune — Cheer up, my lively lads.

Behold the Washingtonians;
They come from every quarter;
They've bid adieu to alcohol.
And now drink pure cold water.

Then cheer up, teetotallers,
Join in the joyful chorus;
Old Alcohol and all his clan
Are flying fast before us.

The news that floats upon the gale,
From every side, is cheering;
Red noses and carbuncled cheeks,
Each day are disappearing.

Then cheer up, teetotallers, &c.

The rags which once each drunkard wore,
No more his form disgraces;
But now, in handsome broadcloth dressed,
They all wear smiling faces.

Then cheer up, teetotallers, &c.

No more we hear of aches and pains,
When rising in the morning;
Hot brandy slings and early drams
Teeto'tlers now are scorning.

Then cheer up, teetotallers, &c.

Old Alcohol is trembling now;
His throne begins to totter;
His house is built upon the sand,
And cannot stand cold water.

Then cheer up, teetotallers, &c.

28

And when the tyrant dies we'll shout
A long-loud hosanna;
We'll bury him, and on his grave
We'll plant the Temp'rance banner.

Then cheer up, teetotallers, &c.