THE DRUNKARD'S DREAM
Why, Dermot, you look healthy, now your dress is neat and clean;
I never see you drunk about, oh I tell where you've been;
Your wife and family all are well, you once did use them strange.
Oh! you are kinder to them; how came this happy change?
It was a dream, a warning voice, which heaven sent to me,
To snatch me from the drunkard's curse, grim want and misery;
My wages all were spent In drink; oh! 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 nov her sigh;
Her patient smile has welcomed me when tears bedimmed her eye;
My children too have oft awoke; "oh! father, dear," they've said,
Poor mother has been weeping so because we've-had no bread.
My Mary's form did waste away-I saw her sunken eye-
On straw my babes in sickness laid-I heard their wailing cry;
I laughed and sung in drunken joy, while Mary's tears did stream,
Then like a beast I fell asleep-and had this warning dream:
I thought once more I stagger'd 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 led a wretched life,
Grief and want have broken her heart; who'd be a drunkard's wife?"
I saw my children weeping round; I scarcely drew my breath.
They called and kissed her lifeless form, forever stilled in death.
"Oh 1 father, come and wake her up, the people say she's dead,
Oh I make her smile, and speak once more, we'll never cry for bread."
"She Is not dead," I frantic cried, and rushed to where she lay,
And madly kiss'd her once warm lips, forever cold as clay;
"Oh ! Mary speak one word to me, no more I'll cause you pain,
No more I'll grieve your loving heart, nor ever drink again."
"Dear Mary speak, 'tis Dermot calls 1" " Why, so I do !" she cried;
I woke, and true, my Mary dear was kneeling by my side;
I press'd her to my throbbing heart, while joyous tears did stream,
And ever since I've heaven bless'd for sending me that dream.