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Smoking Poems

The Ballad Of The Pipe.
Oh, give me but Virginia's weed, An earthen bowl, a st...

The Latest Convert.
I've been in love some scores of times, With Amy, Ne...

Geordie To His Tobacco-pipe.
Good pipe, old friend, old black and colored friend, W...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

Pernicious Weed!
The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, Makes half a s...

The Farmer's Pipe.
Make a picture, dreamy smoke, In my still and cosey ...

My Cigarette.
Ma pauvre petite, My little sweet, Why do you cry...

If I Were King.
If I were king, my pipe should be premier. The skies o...

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

Smoking Song.
With grateful twirl our smoke-wreaths curl, As mist ...

On A Tobacco Jar.
Three hundred years ago or soe, One worthy knight an...

To My Meerschaum.
There's a charm in the sun-crested hills, In the qui...

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

Virginia's Kingly Plant.
_BY AN "OLD SALT."_ Oh, muse! grant me the power (I...

Confession Of A Cigar Smoker.
I owe to smoking, more or less, Through life the whole...

He Respondeth.
SHE. You still persist in using, I observe with g...

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

Titlepage Dedication.
"Let those smoke now who never smoked before, And those ...

My Cigar.
In spite of my physician, who is, _entre nous_, a fogy, ...

In The Ol' Tobacker Patch.
I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to...



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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