TOBACCO IS AN INDIAN WEED.
Tobacco's but an Indian weed,
Grows green at morn, cut down at eve;
It shows decay; we are but clay;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.
The pipe that is so lily white,
Wherein so many take delight,
Is broke with a touch,--man's life is such;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.
The pipe that is so foul within
Shows how man's soul is stained with sin,
And then the fire it doth require;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.
The ashes that are left behind
Do serve to put us all in mind
That unto dust return we must;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.
The smoke that does so high ascend
Shews us man's life must have an end;
The vapor's gone,--man's life is done;
Think of this when you smoke tobacco.
From "_Pills to Purge Melancholy_."
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