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Tobacco's But an Indian Weed -- Traditional

Guest poem sent in by William Grey
(Poem #1926) Tobacco's But an Indian Weed
 Tobacco's but an Indian weed,
 Grows green at morn, cut down at eve,
 It shews our decay, we are but clay:
 Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

 The pipe that is so lily white,
 Wherein so many take delight,
 Is broke with a touch -- man's life is such:
 Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

 The pipe that is so foul within,
 Shows man's soul is stained with sin;
 It doth require the purging fire;
 Think of this when you smoke tobacco!

 The ashes that are left behind,
 Do serve to put us all in mind
 That unto dust return we must:
 Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

 The smoke, that does so high ascend,
 Shews us man's life must have an end,
 The vapour's gone -- man's life is done:
 Think of this when you smoke tobacco.
-- Traditional
      (17th Century England)

The song "Tobacco's But an Indian Weed" goes back at least to the mid-17th
century. It can be sung to an appropriately mournful, dirge-like melody.

This version is based on Thomas D'Urfey's "Pills to Purge Melancholy"
(1699), sourced from: http://kitchenmusician.net/smoke/smokepage.html

William Grey

[Martin adds]

What fascinates me about this song is how likely it is (at least in
retrospect) that it would be caught up in the folk process. The combination
of a simple, strong pattern (one rhyming couplet, one internally-rhyming
line and a refrain), a subversive topic that has room for infinite
variation, and the lack of any real ordering to the verses makes the
temptation to tweak or add a verse or two almost irresistible.

[Links]

http://kitchenmusician.net/smoke/tobacco.html has a nice writeup on the
history of the song

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