I.
My pipe, he tastes of turpentine—
He is a penny pipe—
A taste that every pipe of mine
Has when he is not ripe.
I bought him at a little shop
Where they sell fruit and cheese,
Tobacco, toys, and ginger-pop,
And said, "A cheap pipe, please."
It was a maiden sold him me,
And she was proud and cold;
She'd briar pipes at two-and-three
For them that squandered gold;
She'd one that had a leather case.
Item, a curly stem;
And cheap pipes make her shrug her face,
She had such scorn of them.