My Friendly Pipe
Let sybarites still dream delights
While smoking cigarettes,
Whose opiates get in their pates
Till waking brings regrets;
Oh, let them doze, devoid of woes,
Of troubles, and of frets.
And let the chap who loves to nap
With his cigar in hand
Pursue his way, and live his day,
As runs time’s changing sand;
Let him delight by day and night
In his peculiar brand.
But as for me, I love to be
Provided with a pipe,—
A rare old bowl to warm my soul,
A meerschaum brown and ripe,—
With good plug cut, no stump or butt,
Nor filthy gutter-snipe.
My joys increase! It brings me peace
As nothing else can do;
From all the strife of daily life
Here my relief is true.
I watch its rings; it purrs and sings—
And then it’s cheaper, too!
Detroit Tribune.