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Smoking Poems

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

A Pot, And A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Some praise taking snuff; And 'tis pleasant en...

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

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

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

To The Rev. Mr. Newton.
Says the Pipe to the Snuff-box, "I can't understand ...

My Meerschaum Pipe.
Old meerschaum pipe, I'll fondly wipe Thy scarred an...

Knickerbocker.
Shade of Herrick, Muse of Locker, Help me sing of Knic...

Those Ashes.
Up to the frescoed ceiling The smoke of my cigarette...

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

A Pipe Of Tobacco.
Let the toper regale in his tankard of ale, Or with ...

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
_A SAILOR'S VERSION_. They were three jolly sailors bo...

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

Clouds.
Mortals say their heart is light When the clouds aroun...

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

The Smoker's Calendar.
When January's cold appears, A glowing pipe my spirit ...

"a Free Puff."
Do you remember when first we met? I was turning twent...

Cannon Song.
And it has turned since you and I Set out to face th...

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

Edifying Reflections Of A Tobacco-smoker.
_SET TO MUSIC BY JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH. AUTHOR UNKNOWN. TRANS...



INGIN SUMMER.








Jest about the time when Fall
Gits to rattlin' in the trees,
An' the man thet knows it all,
'Spicions frost in every breeze,
When a person tells hisse'f
Thet the leaves look mighty thin,
Then thar blows a meller breaf!
Ingin summer's hyere agin.

Kind-uh smoky-lookin' blues
Spins acrost the mountain-side,
An' the heavy mornin' dews
Greens the grass up far an' wide,
Natur' raly 'pears as ef
She wuz layin' off a day,--
Sort-uh drorin in her breaf
'Fore she freezes up to stay.

Nary lick o' work I strike,
'Long about this time of year!
I'm a sort-uh slowly like,
Right when Ingin summer's here.
Wife and boys kin do the work;
But a man with natchel wit,
Like I got, kin 'ford to shirk,
Ef he has a turn for it.

Time when grapes set in to ripe,
All I ast off any man
Is a common co'n-cob pipe
With terbacker to my han';
Then jest loose me whar the air
Simmers 'crost me, wahm an' free!
Promised lands ull find me thar;
Wings ull fahly sprout on me!

I'm a loungin' 'round on thrones,
Bossin' worlds f'om shore to shore,
When I stretch my marrer-bones
Jest outside the cabin door!
An' the sunshine peepin' down
On my old head, bald an' gray,
'Pears right like the gilted crown,
I expect to w'ar some day.

EVA WILDER MCGLASSON.





Next: EDIFYING REFLECTIONS OF A TOBACCO-SMOKER.

Previous: TO SEE HER PIPE AWRY.



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