The matter in this chapter does not seem, strictly speaking, to come under the head of any of the preceding ones: it contains no account of houses or places permanently haunted, or of warnings of impending death. Rather we have gathered up... Read more of Miscellaneous Supernormal Experiences at Scary Stories.caInformational Site Network Informational
Privacy
   Home - Smoking Articles - History of Smoking - Poems about Smoking - Giving up Alcohol

Smoking Poems

To An Old Pipe.
Once your smoothly polished face Nestled lightly in a ...

A Loss.
How hard a thing it is to part From those we love an...

"keats Took Snuff."
"Keats took snuff.... It has been established by the ...

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

The Patriotic Smoker's Lament.
Tell me, shade of Walter Raleigh, Briton of the true...

Sweet Smoking Pipe.
Sweet smoking pipe; bright glowing stove, Companion ...

Old Pipe Of Mine.
Companion of my lonely hours, Full many a time 'twix...

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

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

To See Her Pipe Awry.
Betty bouncer kept a stall At the corner of a street...

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

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

In Rotten Row.
In Rotten Row a cigarette I sat and smoked, with no re...

Ode To Tobacco.
Come then, Tobacco, new-found friend, Come, and thy ...

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

The Scent Of A Good Cigar.
What is it comes through the deepening dusk,-- Somethi...

The Last Pipe.
When head is sick and brain doth swim, And heavy hangs...

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

Smoking Away.
Floating away like the fountains' spray, Or the snow...

Cannon Song.
Come, seniors, come, and fill your pipes, Your richest...



IN THE OL' TOBACKER PATCH.








I jess kind o' feel so lonesome that I don't know what to do,
When I think about them days we used to spend
A hoein' out tobacker in th' clearin'--me an' you--
An' a wishin' that the day was at an end.
For the dewdrops was a sparklin' on the beeches' tender leaves
As we started out a workin' in the morn;
An' th' noonday sun was sendin' down a shower of burnin' sheaves
When we heard the welcome-soundin' dinner-horn.
An' th' shadders round us gathered in a sort of ghostly batch,
'Fore we started home from workin' in that ol' tobacker patch.

I'm a feelin' mighty lonesome, as I look aroun' to-day,
For I see th' change that's taken place since then.
All th' hills is brown and faded, for th' woods is cleared away;
You an' me has changed from ragged boys to men;
You are livin' in th' city that we ust to dream about;
I am still a dwellin' here upon the place,
But my form is bent an' feeble, which was once so straight and
stout,
An' there's most a thousand wrinkles on my face.
You have made a mint of money; I, perhaps have been your match,
But we both enjoyed life better in that ol' tobacker patch.

S.Q. LAPIUS.




Next: MAECENAS BIDS HIS FRIEND TO DINE.

Previous: HER BROTHER'S CIGARETTE.



Add to Informational Site Network
Report
Privacy
ADD TO EBOOK


Viewed 4158