Introductory material
Reading edition

Danger- Signals
This is the man that rum made


Danger- Signals
This is the weed that sowed the seed For making the man that rum made


Danger- Signals
This is the cider, the rumseller’s tinder, That goes with the weed that sowed the seed For making the man that rum made


Danger- Signals
This is the beer, the jolly good lager, Firm friend of cider, the rumseller’s tinder, That goes with the weed that sowed the seed For making the man that rum made


Danger- Signals
This is the wine, the red, red wine, Alluring from beer, the jolly good lager, Firm friend of cider, the rumseller’s tinder, That goes with the weed that sowed the seed For making the man that rum made


Danger- Signals
This is the whisky, to make you tipsy, That follows the wine, the red, red wine, Alluring from beer, the jolly good lager, Firm friend of cider, the rumseller’s tinder, That goes with the weed that sowed the seed For making the man that rum made

PURE SOUR MASH WHISKY DEATH & CO WHOLESALE & RETAIL

This is the nose that blossoms and grows On the face of the man that rum made.

FREE LUNCH WITH LAGER BEER WINES LIQUORS

This is the cheek, all flabby and weak, By the side of the nose that blossoms and grows On the face of the man that rum made.


This is the eye, all bleared and awry, Surmounting the cheek, so flabby and weak, By the side of the nose that blossoms and grows On the face of the man that rum made.


This is the throat of the whisky bloat, Below the eye, all bleared and awry, Surmounting the cheek, so flabby and weak, By the side of the nose that blossoms and grows On the face of the man that rum made.


This is the story the stomach will tell,— The stomach that once was healthy and well,— Far worse than the throat of the whisky bloat, Below the eye, all bleared and awry, Surmounting the cheek, so flabby and weak, By the side of the nose that blossoms and grows On the face of the man that rum made.

A Healthy Stomach B Stomach of Drunkard C Stomach of Drunkard with Delirium Tremens

This is the liver, all pickled and shrunk, Produced by the alcohol, making him drunk, Thus aiding the story the stomach will tell,— The stomach that once was healthy and well,— Far worse than the throat of the whisky bloat, Below the eye, all bleared and awry, Surmounting the cheek, so flabby and weak, By the side of the nose that blossoms and grows On the face of the man that rum made.


This is the group of little blood cells, Each crippled and killed by the poison which tells, So fatal to liver, all pickled and shrunk, Produced by the alcohol, making him drunk, Thus aiding the story the stomach will tell,— The stomach that once was healthy and well,— Far worse than the throat of the whisky bloat, Below the eye, all bleared and awry, Surmounting the cheek, so flabby and weak, By the side of the nose that blossoms and grows On the face of the man that rum made.


This is the wreck that alcohol made Of the man who once was sober and staid, Whose blood was diseased by the little blood cells Being crippled or killed by the poison which tells, So fatal to liver, all pickled and shrunk, Produced by the alcohol, making him drunk, Thus aiding the story the stomach will tell,— The stomach that once was healthy and well,— Far worse than the throat of the whisky bloat, Below the eye, all bleared and awry, Surmounting the cheek, so flabby and weak, By the side of the nose that blossoms and grows On the face of the man that rum made.


Grandma Duncan and the Children