JESSIE BY THE FOUNTAIN* * * *(Dennison Woodcock.)* * * *Jessie by the fountain stoodWith pitcher in her hand;She dipped it in the crystal floodAnd gave each thirsty manWho from the hay fields gathered there,And standing near the brink,From a gentle hand so fairReceived the cooling drink.A smile of joy was in her eye,A consciousness of good;She felt a blessing from on high,Approval of her God.Water pure is all they needTo drive their thirst away;So again they all proceedTo work amid the hay.Then drink of water pure and clear,From stimulants refrain,'Twill not with business interfereOr cause a muddled brain.Another stands behind the bar,Rather out of place;A seared conscience seems to marThe beauty of her face.She cares not for children's woesOr anxious mother's need;While money to her coffer goesTo gratify her greed.Men go there their thirst to checkWith brandy, rum and gin;She throws a halter round their necksWhich drags them there again.Their money gone and senses too,More thirsty than before;What do these foolish mortals doBut beg and plead for more.They stagger out into the street,With curses on their tongue,With palsied hands and tangled feet,A sight for old and young.Which one is a source of prideAnd which a social scar,Jessie by the fountain side,Or Greed behind the bar?
Jessie by the fountain stoodWith pitcher in her hand;She dipped it in the crystal floodAnd gave each thirsty manWho from the hay fields gathered there,And standing near the brink,From a gentle hand so fairReceived the cooling drink.A smile of joy was in her eye,A consciousness of good;She felt a blessing from on high,Approval of her God.Water pure is all they needTo drive their thirst away;So again they all proceedTo work amid the hay.Then drink of water pure and clear,From stimulants refrain,'Twill not with business interfereOr cause a muddled brain.Another stands behind the bar,Rather out of place;A seared conscience seems to marThe beauty of her face.She cares not for children's woesOr anxious mother's need;While money to her coffer goesTo gratify her greed.Men go there their thirst to checkWith brandy, rum and gin;She throws a halter round their necksWhich drags them there again.Their money gone and senses too,More thirsty than before;What do these foolish mortals doBut beg and plead for more.They stagger out into the street,With curses on their tongue,With palsied hands and tangled feet,A sight for old and young.Which one is a source of prideAnd which a social scar,Jessie by the fountain side,Or Greed behind the bar?