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Harper's Weekly 07/09/1859
TOBACCO AND I.
I give it up! It is no use!— Tobacco, you and I must quit! Why should I stuff me, like a goose, And be forever on the spit?
My cud (eschewed) may “go to grass;” I need no cud; I'm not a cow! It doesn't “pay,” Belinda says— This quid that brings no FAIR pro quo.
My pipe, that seem'd a pipe of peace, In pieces lies: no more “divine.” I've no Bocarme tendencies: And the “Old Nick” is in this nicotine.
With “cloud-compelling Jove"-ial wits, In “Cuban stock” no more I trust; For if I fame“somebody” frets, And this Fille-buster is not “buss'd!”
Why should I smoke? why light the Feu Follet that kindles countless woes? Why “nigger-head” or “pig-tail” chew, Or make an ash-hole of my nose?
It dulls the sense, defiles the breath, Depraves the taste, depletes the purse; Poisons the very air with death, And makes an everlasting “muss.”
So, ladies, you who're “up to snuff,” Look elsewhere for your fellow-puffers; You'll ne'er make of this piece of stuff The worse half of a pair of snuffers.
And “gents”—if you're some city “Brick,” To you I've just this word to say: There are those whom your smoke makes sick! So don't—don't FUMIGATE Broadway.
Housatonic Valley,1859. P.
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