THE Indian weed withered quite; Green at morn, cut down at night; Shows thy decay: all flesh is hay: Thus think, then drink Tobacco. And when the smoke ascends on high, Think thou behold'st the vanity Of worldly stuff, gone with a puff: Thus think, then drink Tobacco. But when the pipe grows foul within, Think of thy soul defiled with sin, And that the fire doth it require: Thus think, then drink Tobacco. The ashes, that are left behind, May serve to put thee still in mind That unto dust return thou must: Thus think, then drink Tobacco. |