The dram-shop; or a peep into a prison — Gin-shop; or, a peep into a prison

Table of contents

- [colophon]

THE DRAM-SHOP; OR A PEEP INTO A PRISON.

LOOK through the land from North to South,

And look from East to West;

And see what is to Irishmen,

Of Life the deadliest Pest.

It is not Want, tho' that is bad,

Nor war, tho' that is worse;

But Ireland's sons endure, alas!

A self-inflicted Curse.

Go where you will throughout the Realm

You'll find that every vice,

In Cities, Villages and Towns;

From WHISKEY takes its rise.

The Prince of darkness never sent

To Man a deadlier foe,

"My name is Legion," it may say,

The source of every woe.

Nor does the fiend alone deprive

The labourer of his wealth;

That is not all, it murders too

His honest name and health.

We say the times are grievous hard,

And hard they are, 'tis true;

But, Drunkards, to your wives and babes

They're harder made by you.

The Drunkard's Tax is self-impos'd,

And hardest to endure,

Not all the Taxes half so much

Oppress the lab'ring poor.

The State compels no man to drink,

Compels no man to game;

'Tis vice and WHISKEY sink him down

To rags, and want, and shame.

The kindest husband chang'd by these

Is for a tyrant known;

The tenderest heart that Nature made,

Becomes a heart of stone.

In many a house the harmless babes

Are poorly cloth'd and fed;

Because the craving DRAM-SHOP takes

The children's daily bread.

It oft has robb'd the heedless youth

Of health and senses too,

And plung'd his never dying soul

In everlasting Woe.

Come neighbour take a walk with me,

Thro' many a Dublin Street;

And see the cause of penury,

In hundreds we shall meet.

We shall not need to travel far—

Behold that great man's door;

He well discerns that idle crew,

From the deserving poor.

He will relieve with liberal hand

The child of honest thrift:

But where long scores at DRAM-SHOPS stand

He will with-hold his gi•t.

Behold that shivering female there,

Who plies her woeful trade!

Tis WHISKEY ten to one you'll find,

That hopeless wretch has made.

Look down those steps, and view below

Yon cellar under ground;

There every want, and every woe,

And every Sin, is found.

Those little wretches trembling there,

With hunger and with cold,

Were by their parents love of drink,

To Sin and Misery sold.

Blest be those friends [*] to human kind,

Who take those wretches up,

Ere they have drunk the bitter dregs

Of their sad parents cup.

Look thro' that prison's iron bars,

Look thro' that dismal grate;

And learn what dire misfortunes brought

So terrible a fate.

The Debtor and the Felon too,

Tho' differing in disgrace,

By WHISKEY you'll too often find,

Were brought to this sad place.

Yet Heaven forbid I should confound

Calamity with guilt!

Or name the Debtor's lesser fault,

With blood of brother spilt.

To prison dire misfortunes oft

The guiltless debtor bring;

Yet oft'ner far it will be found

His Woes from WHISKEY spring.

See the pale Manufact'rer there,

How lank and lean he lies!

How haggard is his sickly cheek!

How dim his hollow eyes!

He plied the loom with good success,

His wages still were high;

Twice what the village lab'rer gains,

His master did supply.

No book-debts kept him from his cash,

All paid as soon as due;

His wages on the Saturday

To •ail be never knew.

How amply had his gains suffic'd,

On wife and children spent!

But all must for his pleasure go;

All to the DRAM-SHOP went.

See that Apprentice, young in years;

But hackney'd long in vice,

What made him rob his master's till?

Ah! WHISKEY did entice.

That serving Man—I knew him once,

So jaunty, spruce, and smart!

Why did he steal, and pawn the plate?

'Twas WHISKEY snar'd his heart.

Turn now mine eye where Channel-row,

Displays yon mansion drear,

And ask each pale and shiv'ring wretch,

What misery drove him there.

O! woeful sight, say what cou'd cause,

Such poverty and shame?

Hark! hear his words, he owns the cause—

It all from WHISKEY came.

And when the future Lot is fix'd,

Of darkness, fire and chains,

How can the Drunkard hope to 'scape

Those everlasting pains.

Since all his claim to heaven he sells

And drink the bestial cause,

Rejects the price his Saviour paid,

And disobeys his laws,

For if the Murd'rer's doom'd to woe,

As holy writ declares,

The Drunkard with SELF Murderers

That dreadful Portion shares.

Z.

Notes

*
The Philanthropic Society.
↵

DUBLIN: SOLD BY WILLIAM WATSON, No. 7, CAPEL-STREET, PRINTER TO THE CHEAP REPOSITORY FOR RELIGIOUS AND MORAL TRACTS, And by the BOOKSELLERS, CHAPMEN and HAWKERS, in Town and Country.

PRICE ONE HALFPENNY.

Information about this book

Title statement

The dram-shop; or a peep into a prison

Gin-shop; or, a peep into a prison

More, Hannah, 1745-1833.

Publication

Distributor

University of Oxford Text Archive
Oxford University Computing Services
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ota@oucs.ox.ac.uk

ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/5423

ID [isbn10]

1106024222

ID [isbn13]

9781106024220

ID [TCP]

K118563.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3315219255

ID [ECLL]

0931000500

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— The dram-shop; or a peep into a prison, Gin-shop; or, a peep into a prison, More, Hannah, 1745-1833.. 1 sheet ; 1⁰. Dublin :: sold by William Watson, and by the booksellers, chapmen and hawkers, in town and country,. [1796?]. [Signed: Z, i.e. Hannah More.] [A song - "Look through the land from north to south,".] [Cheap repository tract, first published in 1795 as 'The gin-shop; or, a peep into a prison'.] [Reproduction of original from the Bodleian Library (Oxford).] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT165697.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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