ON SMOKING (Before I quit)
An ounce of dried out leaves it lies
Wrapped in paper, ‘fore my eyes,
So small, so plain, so insignificant,
Most everything is more magnificent.
Would you spend good money daily
For a rose if it bloomed gaily?
Or would you dry it up like hay
And smoke it madly every day?
I’ve never seen tobacco growing,
But in my cigarette that’s glowing,
It’s part of life, like food and clothes,
But not so healthful, I suppose.
They say your lungs will rue the day
You started puffing in that way,
And then inhaling way down deep,
Until you crave them in your sleep
Begone from me – I need you not!
My heart you’ll ruin, my lungs you’ll rot!
This afternoon I’ll gladly quit,
But first I’ll sit and puff a bit.