BLOW THE TEMPERANCE 

 HORN 



Little boy Legioner, blow your horn, 

 The whisky man is after your corn : 

 The brewer would like your barley for beer. 

 The cider man your apples, I fear. 



Toot ! Toot ! my temperance horn I'll blow 

 To tell all these naughty people, No ! 



48 



