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| Scottish Temperance Pledge Sourced from www.theglasgowstory.com |
Warning this poem contains depictions of domestic violence and drug abuse.
This is the second of the 'poems for recitation' I found in Trove. The poem by Murdoch is a harrowing tale told in twenty quatrains in an AABB rhyming pattern. A story of a man, Jack, who destroys his family because of an alcohol addiction. Clearly there is a temperance purpose behind the writing as can be seen by the promise to sign 'the pledge' toward the end (spoilers). One wonders how a public reading of this poem would influence someone who, like Jack, is gripped by an addiction that is breaking their family apart.
This poem appears in at least seven newspapers in the period August-October 1883. I could find three other poems written by Alex G. Murdoch, Gladstone and the Right, The Brae of Life, and Give back the Land (in the Bulletin). At the time of publication I have not tidied the Trove copies of these. He also published a book ... Lilts on the Doric lyre: a collection of humorous poems and versified sketches of Scottish manners and characters of which a scanned version of the 1873 edition held at the Bodleian Library can be seen at the previous link.
Italics are in the original source.
LOTTY'S MESSAGE.
(NEW POEM FOR RECITATION.)
BY ALEX. G. MURDOCH.
Can you list to a heart-thrilling story, of passion, and pathos, and sin —
A tale of the tragical sorrow that's born of the liking for gin?
Your ears, then, good friends, and I'll tell it, in just as plain words as I can —
How honest Jack Drew was a drunkard, and how he became a new man.
For Jack was a right honest fellow, and handsome and stalwart, as true,
A forgeman, who wrought at steam-hammers, and a large weekly pay-bill he drew;
So Jack, like his fellows, got married, and had in good time a wee "tot,"
A sweet little flaxon-hair'd cherub, as ever fell to a man's lot.
Twas Lotty they call'd her—'Wee Lotty' — and well was the darling caress'd,
Till the demon of drink, like a fell curse, exorcised the sweet love from his breast.
For Jack, who was once a good husband, as never was known to go wrong,
Began to dip into the 'strong stuff,' and the end, you may guess, wasn't long.
And Lotty's poor mother, alas! sirs, now that her "dear Jack" was astray,
Broke down in the fight to make ends meet, and pass'd straight to heaven away;
And Jack, for a moment, was sober'd, and drew himself back from the brink ,
Whereon he'd been reeling in madness — the horrible hell-pit of Drink!
But, alas, for the heart's human weakness; — and, oh, for the pow'r that's in gin!
Jack went back, like a tiger unsated, to drink down the horror within!
Oh, the fires of Remorse that now wrung him! — that scorch'd both his heart and his brain!
The regrets for the wrongs done his dead wife — he'd never on earth see again!
Ah, 'twas Lotty he now had to live for! If, only the Demon of drink
Would unloose the strong bands that enslav'd him, and free him to work, and to think!
For Lotty, neglected Wee Lotty! she, too was fast wearing away
To that Land where her mother had gone to, two years since, last Christmas day.
Well, one night in the depth of dark Winter, when snow lay on house-top and street,
Jack comes home with fierce fire in his sunk eyes, his face gone as white as a sheet.
"Lotty! got me a copper on these, lass! and hurry up! quick! or I'm done!
The pawn will be shut in a minute! and to have you in time, lass, I've run!"
And he handed poor Lotty her wee boots! the only "good pair" she had got!
"Oh, father, the Sunday School soiree! next week! and she smiled at the thought.
"Curse the Sunday School soiree! Be quick, child! Run! run the whole way all your might.
I must have more Drink! or, God help me! the River will have me to-night! '
"Hush, father I Don't speak so! I'll go! Yes, I'll run as I ne'er ran before,
Though weak with a touch of the fever —" "Off! make yourself scarce! out the door!"
So the poor child, ill-clad and sore ailing, slow dying of want and despair,
Ran out on the cold snow barefooted, death-pierced by the cutting night air!
Oh, 'twas painful to Lotty; Just think on't. Her wee Sunday boots thus to "go";
To furnish the gin that was killing all the love that her childhood should know;
And the "Children's Soiree" she had dreamed of, no longer in hope to be hers;
Oh, that drink should tear worse than a tiger! yet that is the truth of it, sirs.
But Lotty ran hard with the "offering"— as hard and as fast as she could,
Till check'd by a sudden exhaustion, then — slowly her way she pursu'd;
Weak and fainting at heart she crept onward, holding on by the wall as she went,
A strange blinding mist o'er her eyesight, and fear in her heart, weak and spent,
Till, reaching the pawnshop's dark threshold, the strong door was slammed in her face!
With a "Come back tomorrow, young slow-coach! We don't 'low five minutes of grace!"
So Lotty, struck dumb with child terror, crept back to her father's abode,
Sinking down in his presence exhausted, as if crush'd by a terrible load.
"Where's the money? — the money! — oh, curse you! — these boots — You have hung back till late!"
"Nay, father; I ran till exhausted; then crawl'd on beneath a great weight;
My boots, I'd have 'pledg'd' them to serve you; but just as I reach'd the 'pawn' door,
"Twas shut in my face —!" "You lie, Lotty! Take that!" and she swoon'd on the floor!
Yes; he lifted his clench'd fist and struck her! — struck down the sweet child of his love!
For he lo'v'd her— but lov'd the gin better — and the angels wept sorrow above.
Strong Remorse in his heart, he bent o'er her, and tenderly lifted the child;
Then, placed her upon her straw pallet, and well-nigh with anguish went wild.
"Oh, you wont die, sweet Lotty!— Speak! — Say so!' and he wiped the warm, blood from her face;
"I was mad, worse than mad when I struck you! — a wretch undeserving of grace!
Oh! speak, Lottie! — Speak!— I'm your father! — sin-bruise'd both without and within!"
It 'twasn't your father that struck you! 'twas the Demon that's born of gin!
"Don't die! For my sake, dearest Lotty! live to see me reclaim'd from this Curse
That binds me with fetters of madness, than slave-chains a thousand times worse!
I'll struggle to brake them for ever, with God's help, as far as I can,
If you'll only, stay with me a little, to see me become a new man!"
As beauty and peace are prefigur'd when God's smile has rainbow'd the sky,
So a smile lighted up Lotty's wan face— an Iris let down from on high;
"No, father; 'twas not you that struck me; I know it 'twas just the bad drink!
God will take these your tears of repentance, and strike off your chains, link by link!
"To be with you, and comfort you, father; I fain for a life-time would stay;
But, just now, do you know, I saw mother! and — I feel I am going away!
Have you not one sweet word for her, father? I should like so to speak of you fair;
Just one dear word of grace from your own lips — a message of Love to take there!"
''Lotty! — Tell her — I've ' signed' it! — yes, sign'd it! — the "Pledge" she oft spoke of while here;
With my heart's anguish'd blood it is written! though the trace of it may not appear!
Tell her— Lotty — I'll join her in heaven— God willing! — for yours, and her sake!
That's my one word of love to your mother! — the message of peace you will take!"
A smile lit the wan face of Lottie— a smile that was not of this earth,
And, ere the dawn checquer'd the heavens, she passed to her heavenly birth.
And Jack, poor dear fellow, he lives yet, right sober, but sad-like of face;
And he hopes a reunion in heaven, where he sent Lotty's Message of Grace!
Source:
LOTTY'S MESSAGE. (1883, August 23). The Shoalhaven Telegraph (NSW : 1881 - 1937), p. 2 (SUPPLEMENT TO THE Shoalhaven Telegraph). Retrieved March 5, 2023, from http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article127950088
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