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No Beer No Work

 The shades of night was fallin’ slow
As through New York a guy did go
 And nail on ev’ry barroom door
 A card that this here motter bore:
 “No beer, no work.
” His brow was sad, his mouth was dry; It was the first day of July, And where, all parched and scorched it hung, These words was stenciled on his tongue: “No beer, no work.
” “Oh, stay,” the maiden said, “and sup This malted milk from this here cup.
” A shudder passed through that there guy, But with a moan he made reply: “No beer, no work.
” At break of day, as through the town The milkman put milk bottles down, Onto one stoop a sort of snore Was heard, and then was heard no more— “No beer, no work.
” The poor old guy plumb dead was found And planted in the buryin’ ground, Still graspin’ in his hand of ice Them placards with this sad device: “No beer, no work.

by Ellis Parker Butler
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