A woman shoots her husband. Then she holds him under water for over 5 minutes. Finally, she hangs him. But 5 minutes later they both go out together and enjoy a wonderful dinner together. How can this be? ... Read more of How Can This Be? at Free Jokes.caInformational Site Network Informational
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Smoking Poems

Ode To My Pipe.
O Blessed pipe, That now I clutch within my gripe, ...

Smoke Is The Food Of Lovers.
When Cupid open'd shop, the trade he chose Was just th...

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

A Good Cigar.
Oh, 'tis well and enough, A whiff or a puff From th...

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

It May Be Weeds.
It may be weeds I've gathered too; But even weeds...

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

The Pipe You Make Yourself.
There's clay pipes an' briar pipes an' meerschaum pipes a...

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

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

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

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...

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

My After-dinner Cloud.
Some sombre evening, when I sit And feed in solitude...

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

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

With Pipe And Book.
With Pipe and Book at close of day, Oh, what is sweete...

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

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



TO AN OLD PIPE.








Once your smoothly polished face
Nestled lightly in a case;
'Twas a jolly cosy place,
I surmise;

And a zealous subject blew
On your cheeks, until they grew
To the fascinating hue
Of her eyes.

Near a rusty-hilted sword,
Now upon my mantel-board,
Where my curios are stored,
You recline.

You were pleasant company when
By the scribbling of her pen
I was sent the ways of men
To repine.

Tell me truly (you were there
When she ceased that debonair
Correspondence and affair)
I suppose

That she laughed and smiled all day;
Or did gentle tear-drops stray
Down her charming _retroussee_
Little nose?

Where the sunbeams, coyly still,
Fall upon the mantel-sill,
You perpetually will
Silence woo;

And I fear that she herself,
By the little chubby elf.
Will be laid upon the shelf
Just as you.

DE WITT STERRY.





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Previous: THE PATRIOTIC SMOKER'S LAMENT.



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