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Smoking Poems

Invocation To Tobacco.
Weed of the strange flower, weed of the earth, Killer ...

On Receipt Of A Rare Pipe.
I lifted off the lid with anxious care, Removed the ...

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the learned talk of books, The glutton...

A Winter Evening Hymn To My Fire.
Nicotia, dearer to the Muse Than all the grape's bewil...

Ingin Summer.
Jest about the time when Fall Gits to rattlin' in th...

Maecenas Bids His Friend To Dine.
I beg you come to-night and dine. A welcome waits you, a...

My Little Brown Pipe.
I have a little comforter, I carry in my pocket: ...

Cigars And Beer.
Here With my beer I sit, While g...

Tobacco Is An Indian Weed.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut...

The Old Clay Pipe.
There's a lot of solid comfort In an old clay pipe, ...

How It Once Was.
Right stout and strong the worthy burghers stood, ...

In Wreaths Of Smoke.
In wreaths of smoke, blown waywardwise, Faces of o...

My Pipe And I.
There may be comrades in this world, As stanch and t...

The Duet.
I was smoking a cigarette; Maud, my wife, and the te...

The Happy Smoking-ground.
When that last pipe is smoked at last And pouch and ...

Pipes And Beer.
Before I was famous I used to sit In a dull old unde...

An Old Sweetheart Of Mine.
As one who cons at evening o'er an album all alone, An...

My Cigarette.
_WORDS AND MUSIC BY RICHARD BARNARD_. To my sweet ciga...

The Pipe Critic.
Say, pipe, let's talk of love; Canst aid me?...

Pipe And Tobacco.
When my pipe burns bright and clear, The gods I need n...



A PIPE OF TOBACCO.








Let the learned talk of books,
The glutton of cooks,
The lover of Celia's soft smack--O!
No mortal can boast
So noble a toast
As a pipe of accepted tobacco.

Let the soldier for fame,
And a general's name,
In battle get many a thwack--O!
Let who will have most,
Who will rule the rooste,
Give me but a pipe of tobacco.

Tobacco gives wit
To the dullest old cit,
And makes him of politics crack--O!
The lawyers i' the hall
Were not able to bawl,
Were it not for a whiff of tobacco.

The man whose chief glory
Is telling a story,
Had never arrived at the smack--O!
Between ever heying,
And as I was saying,
Did he not take a whiff of tobacco.

The doctor who places
Much skill in grimaces,
And feels your pulse running tic-tack--O!
Would you know his chief skill?
It is only to fill
And smoke a good pipe of tobacco.

The courtiers alone
To this weed are not prone;
Would you know what 'tis makes them so slack--O?
'Twas because it inclined
To be honest the mind,
And therefore they banished tobacco.





Next: HENRY FIELDING.

Previous: AN OLD SWEETHEART OF MINE.



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