A thousand of us unemployed,
did ya think about that, WCTU woman?
I walked away from Pepper’s
leavin’ 2600 barrels of whiskey behind. 
My buddies and me trudged up Manchester Street,
last pay in our pockets. 

Some headed uptown
to revel in the last legal night.
Not me, no,
I gotta get on home
to six kids and a sick wife. 

Last day on the North Broadway trolley
I feel guilty payin’ that nickel;
jingle will be scarce soon.

All them stuck up ladies outside the Christian Church
wear white dresses and broad-brimmed hats,
serve up ice cream and lemonade,
celebrate like it’s The Second Coming. 
A Lexington Herald photographer records the fête.

Hey, ladies!
I don’t care who spends the rent 
in Main Street’s saloons. 
Don’t point at me. 
While them others have hangovers
        tomorrow
I’ll be out findin’ me a job.