Her eyes were red, and twinkling like the light
Of Eastern Hookah, or Meerchaum, by night;
A green tobacco leaf her shoulders graced,
And dried tobacco hung about her waist;
Her voice breathed softly, like the easy puffing
Of an old smoker, after he’s been stuffing.
Thus as she rolled aside the wanton smoke,
To us, her awe-struck votaries she spoke,—
“Hail, faithful slaves! my choicest joys descend
On him who joins the smoker to the friend,