With the thermometer playing around 108° in the shade, temperance advocates in S.A. have the gall to ask for a reduction in the number of hotels.

We’ve a thirst we wouldn’t barter
For the laurels of a martyr –-
Foolish martyr in the cause of temperance;
We’ve a yearning sort of feeling
To be stealing, softly stealing
“Round the corner” ev’ry time we get the chance.

When thermometers are bubbling,
And a thirst is ever troubling,
While the mercury’s hundred in the shade,
They’ve the gall to ask –- these stutters,
That the pubs put up their shutters –-
Phew! of what do they consider man is made?

See the perspiration falling,
Hear the beer-pump softly calling,
Softly calling thirty citizens to come,
And that dry, hard feeling soften,
Quaffing long and quaffing often;
Ponder parson, ponder deeply and be dumb!

Shut the pub?  Oh, soulless man, de-
Liberate on soothing shandy.
Cogitate about the virtues of the heaven-wafted beer;
Agitators, quit your madness,
Nay, possess your pubs in gladness;
And be thankful unto Bacchus or your own pet gods they’re here.

"C.J.D."
The Gadfly, 14 February 1906, p3