While working on a sermon the pastor heard a knock at his office door. "Come in," he invited. A sad-looking man in threadbare clothes came in, pulling a large pig on a rope. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" asked the ma... Read more of Scottish Boy Called Angus at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

A Valentine.
What's my love's name? Guess her name. Nina? No....

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

Too Great A Sacrifice.
The maid, as by the papers doth appear, Whom fifty tho...

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

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

The Discovery Of Tobacco.
'Twas in the days of good Queen Bess,-- Or p'raps a ...

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

The Dreamer's Pipe.
Meerschaum, thing with amber tip, Clutched between the...

The Betrothed.
"_YOU MUST CHOOSE BETWEEN ME AND YOUR CIGAR._" Open the ...

To The Tobacco Pipe.
Dear piece of fascinating clay! 'Tis thine to smooth l...

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

The Smoker's Reverie.
(_OCTOBER._) I'm sitting at dusk 'neath the old beeche...

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

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

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

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

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

Seasonable Sweets.
"_DON'T BE FLOWERY, JACOB._"--CHARLES DICKENS. When th...

Epitaph
_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OV...

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



SMOKE IS THE FOOD OF LOVERS.








When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose
Was just the very one you might suppose.
Love keep a shop?--his trade, oh! quickly name!
A dealer in tobacco--fie, for shame!
No less than true, and set aside all joke,
From oldest time he ever dealt in smoke;
Than smoke, no other thing he sold, or made;
Smoke all the substance of his stock in trade;
His capital all smoke, smoke all his store,
'Twas nothing else; but lovers ask no more--
And thousands enter daily at his door!
Hence it was ever, and it e'er will be
The trade most suited to his faculty:
Fed by the vapors of their heart's desire,
No other food his votaries require;
For that they seek--the favor of the fair--
Is unsubstantial as the smoke and air.

JACOB CATS: _Moral Emblems_.





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