Yestreen I soughtst to smoke my first cigar:
It gav’st my system a tremendous jar!
I didst not have the gumption of a gnat.
All night I couldst not tell where I wast at.
I wish I knew just what those cheap smokes are;
It seem’st to me they’re made of glue and tar.
Ah, me! I’m weaker than a half-starved cat.
Oh, let them smoke henceforth, say’st I, who will,
For who am I that I shouldst dare condemn
Their vile tobacco? I have hadst my fill: