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The smokers lament.

 

The thin blue smoke is rising,

and soon I will be reprising,

A beer from the outside fridge no doubt.

 

And as the jerky shrink,

to all my mates I drink,

To all those smoky folk out there.

 

Here’s to you guys not here,

as I contemplate this beer,

I wish you could whiff these morsels.

 

But you’re probably in bed,

and if the missus wakes up I’m ’bloody dead and broke,

I left the window up and the house is full of smoke.

 

Paul