Histories.ca - Get a canadian perspective on history, read interesting historic tales, understand Canadian and Scottish History. Visit Histories.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

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

A Symphony In Smoke.
A pretty, piquant, pouting pet, Who likes to muse and ...

Sic Transit.
Just a note that I found on my table, By the bills of ...

To My Cigar.
Yes, social friend, I love thee well, In learned doc...

The Ballade Of Tobacco.
When verdant youth sees life afar, And first sets ou...

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

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

Latakia.
I. When all the panes are hung with frost, Wild wiz...

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...

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

Sublime Tobacco.
But here the herald of the self-same mouth Came breath...

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

Tobacco.
The Indian weed, withered quite, Green at noon, cut do...

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

My Pipe.
When love grows cool, thy fire still warms me; When fr...

Henry Fielding.
Friend of my youth, companion of my later days. Wh...

Motto For A Tobacco Jar.
Come! don't refuse sweet Nicotina's aid, But woo the...

A Bachelor's Soliloquy.
I sit all alone with my pipe by the fire, I ne'er kn...

Ashes.
Wrapped in a sadly tattered gown, Alone I puff my brie...



IN THE OL' TOBACKER PATCH.








I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to do,
When I think about them days we used to spend
A hoein' out tobacker in th' clearin'--me an' you--
An' a wishin' that the day was at an end.
For the dewdrops was a sparklin' on the beeches' tender leaves
As we started out a workin' in the morn;
An' th' noonday sun was sendin' down a shower of burnin' sheaves
When we heard the welcome-soundin' dinner-horn.
An' th' shadders round us gathered in a sort of ghostly batch,
'Fore we started home from workin' in that ol' tobacker patch.

I'm a feelin' mighty lonesome, as I look aroun' to-day,
For I see th' change that's taken place since then.
All th' hills is brown and faded, for th' woods is cleared away;
You an' me has changed from ragged boys to men;
You are livin' in th' city that we ust to dream about;
I am still a dwellin' here upon the place,
But my form is bent an' feeble, which was once so straight and
stout,
An' there's most a thousand wrinkles on my face.
You have made a mint of money; I, perhaps have been your match,
But we both enjoyed life better in that ol' tobacker patch.

S.Q. LAPIUS.





Next: MAECENAS BIDS HIS FRIEND TO DINE.

Previous: HER BROTHER'S CIGARETTE.



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 4087