If there's also phosphorus, bringing deadly loss for us,
In Hygiene's new victim, luckless papier pur fil.
Yet some Frenchmen live to tell they are feeling pretty well;
From dozing Concierge at home to marching Garde Mobile,
You might safely bet your boots that, with loud derisive hoots,
They'd scout the thought of poison in their papier pur fil.
Then how foolish to conclude that, because they hurt the dude,
Smoking all day in the country, half the night as well en ville,
After dinner Cigarettes, two or three, mean paying debts
Of nature, or mean going mad, from papier pur fil!