This is what the bunch of ladies pictured on my last entry sang as they marched.

THE LIPS THAT TOUCH LIQUOR
SHALL NEVER TOUCH MINE

The Demon of Wine is about in the land,
His victims are falling on every hand,
The wise and the simple, the brave and the fair,
No station too high for his vengence to spare.
O women, the sorrow and pain is with you,
And so be the joy and the victory, too;
With this for your motto, and succor divine,
The lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine,

The homes that were happy are ruined and gone.
The hearts that were merry are wretched and lone,
And lives full of promise of good things and fine,
Are ruined and wreck’d by the Demon of Wine.
Wives, maidens and mothers, to you it is giv’n,
To rescue the fallen and point them to heav’n.
With us for your guides you shall win by this sign,
The lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine.

O mothers, whose sons tarry long at the bowl,
Who love their good name as you love your own soul,
O maidens with fathers, and brothers and beaux;
Whose lives you would rescue from infinite woes,
Let war be your watchword, from shore unto shore,
Till Wine and his legions shall ruin no more,
And write on your banners, in letters that shine,
The lips that touch liquor shall never touch mine.