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THE DRUNKARD'S HELL
I
T was on a cold and stormy night I saw and heard an awful sight; The lightning flashed and thunder rolled Around my poor benighted soul.
I thought I heard a mournful sound Among the groans still lower down, That awful sight no tongue can tell Is this,— the place called Drunkard's Hell.
I thought I saw the gulf below Where all the dying drunkards go. I raised my hand and sad to tell It was the place called Drunkard's Hell.
I traveled on and got there at last And started to take a social glass; But every time I started,— well, I thought about the Drunkard's Hell.
I dashed it down to leave that place And started to seek redeeming grace. I felt like Paul, at once I'd pray Till all my sins were washed away.
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