1 Cold water is the cup that cheers;
Away, away the bowl!
Old Alcohol is king of tears;
Away, away the bowl!
Goodbye to rum and all its harms,
Farewell the winecup's dread alarms,
Cold water hath far sweeter charms;
Away, away the bowl!
2 See how the stagg'ring drunkard reels;
Away, away the bowl!
What shame and mis'ry he reveals!
Away, away the bowl!
His hungry children cry for bread,
And from their cold, damp cellar bed,
They watch for his return with dread;
Away, away the bowl!
3 No alcohol we'll buy or sell;
Away, away the bowl!
We hate it now and ever shall;
Away, away the bowl!
United in a temp'rance band,
We're join'd in heart, we're join'd in hand,
To drive the demon from our land;
Away, away the bowl!