Mrs. McClung's Address at Walker Theatre /
Nellie's Jig
© Maria Dunn, 2003 / © Shannon Johnson, 2004 SOCAN
Arranged M. Dunn, S. Johnson, S. McDade, Y. Falquet / Arranged S. Johnson, S. McDade, Y. Falquet

On January 28, 1914, the Walker Theatre in Winnipeg, Manitoba was packed to the rafters for a fundraiser to help in the suffragists' struggle to gain the vote for women in Canada. The mock parliament, in which women held the seats and men were coming to ask for the vote, gave Nellie McClung and her colleagues of the Political Equality League an opportunity to turn the tables on all of the condescending arguments they had heard against women's suffrage. Having read about Nellie Letitia Mooney McClung's wit and her Irish and Scottish heritage, I found her parody of Manitoba's Premier Roblin an irresistible excuse for a wee bit of word play. Thanks for the irrepressible jig to match, Shannon!

***

Kind people, I seek your invaluable time
Sit closely and mostly attend to my rhyme
I have a proposal, suppose it were true
It may cause a kerfuffle and ruffle a few
I have a proposal, suppose it would float
That it's men who depended on us for the vote

Let us say, let us play that in 1914
With inventions like engines and flying machines
A chance for advancement men finally see
To be swimmin' with women in politic's stream
Now ladies, be gracious and let's hear their plea
They appeal that the deal should be equality

So enter then gentlemen, welcome in all
To natter this matter in parliament's hall
I'm impressed that you've dressed in suits so fine
A smatter of chatter we'll hear on this line
And your wives, I surmise, don't mind that you're here
They must suffer your suffrage, like roughage, with cheer

Were all men in general as handsome and clever
I doubt that your clout would be questioned, however
I'm sure you'll concur as they're generally not
Well, the votes would be mostly just wasted or bought
This folly of politics only corrupts
Your wives' good lives it enough interrupts

No, you fellows so zealous, good looking and smart
Should resign your designs to the realm of the heart
Anyway, it's a fallacy ballots mean much
It's the yard and the car need a gentleman's touch
Keep in mind while you're struggling shoveling snow
We just govern by shoveling that other you know

And men go ballistic, statistics have shown
They're too proud when allowed to vote on their own
They lurch out of church and end up in the jails
Unsettled, unfettered, riding the rails
Now, need I say more, I adore my own father
Why wish him more hurry, more worry and bother?

Clearly God has thought voting beneath a man's worth
Otherwise She'd devise that men also give birth!

Maria Dunn vocal, accordion · Shannon Johnson violin
Solon McDade upright bass · Jeremiah McDade whistle
Yann Falquet guitar

***

Photo in CD Liner Notes: High Park, four ladies snowshoeing Photographer: William James, 1906-1910 (City of Toronto Archives, 1244-466)

Sources for Mrs. McClung's Address at Walker Theatre:

McClung, N. (1945). The stream runs fast. Watson Viney: Aylesbury, Bucks.
Rasmussen, L., Rasmussen, L., Savage, C. & Wheeler, A. (1976). A harvest yet to reap: A history of prairie women. Women's Press: Toronto.
Winnipeg Free Press (1914, Jan 29). Women score in drama and debate: Clever satire on provincial events in Mock Parliament.

***

In a similar spirit, the following poem, written by Berton Braley, was published in the Grain Growers' Guide, ca. 1915 (and reprinted in Rasmussen et al., 1976, pp. 184):

Unsexed

It doesn't unsex her to toil in a factory
Minding the looms from the dawn till the night
To deal with a school full of children refractory
Doesn't unsex her in anyone's sight
Work in a store where her back aches inhumanly
Doesn't unsex her at all, you will note
But think how exceedingly rough and unwomanly
Woman would be, if she happened to vote!

To sweat in a laundry that's torrid and horrid(er)
Doesn't subtract from her womanly charm
And scrubbing the floors in an echoing corridor
Doesn't unsex her, so where is the harm?
It doesn't unsex her to nurse us with bravery
Loosing death's hand from its grip on the throat
But ah, how the voices grow quivery, quavery
Wailing: "Alas, 'twill unsex her to vote!"

She's feminine yet when she juggles the crockery
Bringing you blithely the order you give
Toiling in sweat shops where life is a mockery
Just for the pittance on which she can live
That doesn't seem to unsex her a particle
"Labor is noble"--so somebody wrote
But ballots are known as a dangerous article
"Woman's unsexed if you give her the vote!"