A POT, AND A PIPE OF TOBACCO.





Some praise taking snuff;

And 'tis pleasant enough

To those who have got the right knack, O!

But give me, my boys,

Those exquisite joys,

A pot, and a pipe of tobacco.



When fume follows fume

To the top of the room,

In circles pursuing their track, O!

How sweet to inhale

The health-giving gale

Of a pipe of Virginia tobacco.



Let soldiers so bold

For fame or for gold

Their enemies cut, slash, and hack, O!

We have fire and smoke,

Though all but in joke,

In a peaceable pipe of tobacco.



Should a mistress, unkind,

Be inconstant in mind,

And on your affections look black, O!

Let her wherrit and tiff,

'Twill blow off in a whiff,

If you take but a pipe of tobacco.



The miserly elf,

Who, in hoarding his pelf,

Keeps body and soul on the rack, O!

Would he bless and be blest,

He might open his chest

By taking a pipe of tobacco.



Politicians so wise,

All ears and all eyes

For news, till their addled pates crack, O!

After puzzling their brains,

Will not get for their pains

The worth of a pipe of tobacco



If your land in the claw

Of a limb of the law

You trust, or your health to a quack, O!

'Tis fifty to one

They're both as soon gone

As you'd puff out a pipe of tobacco.



Life's short, 'tis agreed;

So we'll try from the weed,

Of man a brief emblem to tack, O!

When his spirit ascends,

Die he must,--and he ends

In dust, like a pipe of tobacco.



_From "The Universal Songster, or Museum of Mirth."_





A POET'S PIPE. A SONG WITHOUT A NAME. facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

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