Pipe Smoker

 Because I love the soothing weed
 And am of sober type,
I'd choose me for a friend in need
 A man who smokes a pipe.
A cove who hasn't much to say,
 And spits into the fire,
Puffing like me a pipe of clay,
 Corn-cob or briar.

A chap original of thought,
 With cheery point of view,
Who has of gumption quite a lot,
 And streaks of humour too.
He need not be a whiskered sage,
 With wisdom over-ripe:
Just give me in the old of age
 A pal who smokes a pipe.

A cigarette may make for wit,
 Although I like it not;
A good cigar, I must admit,
 Gives dignity to thought.
But as my glass of grog I sip
 I never, never gripe
If I have for companionship
 A guy who smokes a pipe.

Form: Ballad

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