Let others sing the praise of wine;
I'll tolerate no queen
But one fair nymph of spotless line,
The gentle Nicotine.
Her breath as sweet as any flower's,
Not matter where it blows,
And makes this dull old world of ours
The color of the rose.
There's not a pang but she can soothe,
Nor spell but she can break,
And e'en the hardest lot can smooth,
And bid us courage take.
Fair Nicotine! thou dost atone
For many aching heart:
And I for one would gladly own
The magic of thine art.
Ah, "friendly traitress," "loving foe,"
Forgive this loving lay;
For I, thy worshipper, would show
The sweetness of thy sway.
"Sublime tobacco!" may thy reign
Ne'er for one moment cease;
For thou, Great Plant, art kin to brain,
And synonym for peace.