The Chinaman
The Chinaman his life consumes,
On opium regaling—
The Yankee his tobacco fumes
With equal zest inhaling—
Though trembling nerves and fitful glooms
Warn them that health is failing.
For almost everything that’s done
Some reason wit supposes,
But for the smoker’s faith, not one
The keenest wit discloses;
’Tis filthy, vulgar, costly fun,
Hateful to all good noses.