Daily we drop in the treasure,
But it never reaches its height;
And when we search for the reason,
We find it Saturday night.
Then we find them there in multitudes,
Spending in various ways;
I'll invite you to the bar-room
That you in the window may gaze.
There you'll see Samuel Brown,
Who earns a dollar per day;
And for the cursed rum-cup
He is giving it all away.
At home his wife and children
Have earned whatever they could,
And are waiting by the fire
To receive their Sunday's food.
His wife is somewhat frightened,
The clock has long struck ten;
She lays aside her baby
To bring her Samuel in.
She laid aside her baby
And pursued the journey once more;
She didn't make any inquiries
Till she reached the grocery store.
Then she asked the merchant
If he had seen her Sam.
He said: 'He's gone to the bar-room
To get his Sunday's dram.'
Then to the saloon she hastened,
Entered in at the open door;
There she saw her husband
Lying drunk upon the floor.
By his side she sat and wept,
When he from sleep did wake,
And heard his baby crying
As tho' its heart would break.
When he saw them weeping,
He rose to his feet and swore,
For the sake of wife and baby
He would enter the saloon no more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem