Whene’r I’m out of sorts or sad,
Oppress’d with care, and well-nigh mad,
What comforts me, and makes me glad?
Tobacco!
What builds such castles in the air,
And paints my prospects bright and fair,
And makes me negligent of care?
Tobacco!
How is it that I’m so resign’d,
When’er my wife must speak her mind,