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.