Montreal Gazette, 29 May 1844, page 3

SONGS OF THE HEARTH-RUG

(The disgusted wife to her husband)

You promised to leave off your smoking;
The day I consented to wed.
How little I thought you were joking;
How fondly believed what you said!
Then, alas! How completely you sold me,
With blandishments artful and vain;
When you emptied your snuff-box, and told me
You never would fill it again!

Those fumes, so oppressive, from puffing,
Say, what is the solace that flows?
And whence the enjoyment of stuffing;
A parcel of dust in your nose?
By the habits you thus are pursuing
There can be no pleasure conferr’d;
How irrational, then, is so doing!
Now it is not very absurd?

Cigars come to threepence each, nearly,
And sixpence an ounce is your snuff;
Consider how much then, you yearly
Must waste on that horrible stuff.
Why the sums in tobacco you spend, love,
The wealth in your snuff-box, you sink,
Would procure me of dresses no end, love,
And keep me in gloves; only think!

What’s worse, for your person I tremble,
‘Tis going as fast as it can;
Oh! How should you like to resemble
A smoky and snuffy old man!
Then resign, at the call of Affection,
The habits I cannot endure;
Or you’ll spoil both your nose and complexion,
And ruin your teeth, I am sure.
Punch.

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