When January's cold appears,

A glowing pipe my spirit cheers;

And still it glads the length'ning day

'Neath February's milder sway.

When March's keener winds succeed,

What charms me like the burning weed

When April mounts the solar car,

I join him, puffing a cigar;

And May, so beautiful and bright,

Still finds the pleasing weed a-light.

To balmy zephyrs it gives zest

When June in gayest livery's drest.

Through July, Flora's offspring smile,

But still Nicotia's can beguile;

And August, when its fruits are ripe,

Matures my pleasure in a pipe.

September finds me in the garden,

Communing with a long churchwarden.

Even in the wane of dull October

I smoke my pipe and sip my "robar."

November's soaking show'rs require

The smoking pipe and blazing fire.

The darkest day in drear December's--

That's lighted by their glowing embers.