Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE SONG OF THE CIGARETTE, by PATRICK MACGILL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE SONG OF THE CIGARETTE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Get thee gone, my erstwhile loved one, I am weary
Last Line: Just a cosy spot and silence and a soothing cigarette.
Subject(s): Smoking; Tobacco; Pipes; Cigars; Cigarettes


GET thee gone, my erstwhile loved one, I am weary of your sighs,
Smothered by your fond embraces, tired gazing in your eyes —
No, I do not want to nurse him — Baby, prattling little fool —
Would he were a little older, we would pack him off to school —
No, confound the morning paper, take it from the blessed room,
I am sick of Peer-less Asquith, Crippen, and the Rubber Boom.
Now the cosy room is quiet, and I hope the world will let
Me sit down in calm enjoyment to my soothing cigarette.

Let me see what brand will suit me; ah, it does n't matter much,
Every cigarette's a pleasure, so I'll take one up as such;
Oh, the delicate aroma! What perfume could e'er excel?
Oh, the beautiful tobacco and the life-inspiring smell.
What is wine, and what is woman? Vanity, the preacher says,
If there's vanity in smoking, I am vain for all my days.
Slightly changed, what says my Kipling? Recollect 'tis not a joke,
What's a woman? Just a woman, but — a cigarette's a smoke.

England's kicking up a racket on the passing of the Peers.
Let them pass, I care not twopence while this smoke goes past my ears;
What the mischief am I caring if the German army comes,
I will smoke in peace and paper 'mid the rolling of their drums;

Let them fly until they're stupid, man was ever vain, I know,
Why the reptiles (Latin something) flew ten thousand years ago!
All the world's a show of puppets, and the wisest of them yet
Sits behind the scenes and calmly smokes a Woodbine cigarette.

Let the sickly poet picture scenes from his excited mind,
If I'm left unto my smoking then the gods are very kind;
Let the taxing legislators tax the beer and all the rest,
If they spare my gentle Lady then I'm very surely blest;
Makers of the law and sufferers, mankind of whatever stamp,
Prince or pauper, saint or sinner, tyrant, teacher, tailor, tramp,
Leave me, and I ask for little, but that little I must get,
Just a cosy spot and silence and a soothing cigarette.





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