I'll smoke a serene cigarette!
And all the burdens I have to bear,
I'll smoke away in my Easy Chair!
Within it is snug and quiescent,
Without it persistently pours;
My chair is well-cushioned and pleasant,
Though life's full of angles and bores!
My room is deliciously torrid,
By frost or by rain I'm unvext;
The world is decidedly horrid—