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| Smoke Smoke Smoke That Cigarette
Now I'm a feller with a heart of gold, With the ways of a gentleman, I've been told. The kind of a feller that wouldn't even harm a flea But if me and a certain character met That guy that invented the cigarette I'd murder that son of a gun in the first degree. Now it ain't cause that I don't smoke myself I don't reckon they'll hinder your health I've smoked all my life and I'm not dead yet. But nicotine slaves are all the same, At a pettin' party or a poker game, Everything's gotta stop while they have that cigarette. Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! that cigarette. Puff! Puff! Puff! And if you smoke yourself to death, Tell Saint Peter at the golden gate That you hate to make him wait, But you got to have another cigarette. Now in a game of chance the other night, Old dame fortune was doing me right. The kings and the queens they just kept on comin' round Then I gotta a full and I bet 'em high But my bluff didn't work on a certain guy He kept on raisin' and layin' that money down He'd raise me, and I'd raise him. I sweated blood, gotta sink or swim; He finally called, but he didn't raise the bet. I said aces full, pal, How 'bout you? He said well I'll tell you in just a minute or two But right now I just got to have a cigarette. Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! that cigarette. Puff! Puff! Puff! And if you smoke yourself to death, Tell Saint Peter at the golden gate, That you hate to make him wait, But you just gotta have another cigarette. The other night I had a date With the cutest little girl in the 48 states, A high bred up-town fancy little dame. She said she loved me, And it seemed to me That things were just about like they oughtta be. So Hand in hand we strolled down lover's lane. She was oh so far from a chunk of ice, Our smoochin' party was a going nice, So help me Hannah I think I'd've been there yet But I'd give her a kiss and a little squeeze And she said, "Tex, excuse me please, But I just got to have another cigarette." Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! that cigarette Puff! Puff! Puff! And if you puff yourself to death, Tell Saint Peter at the golden gate, That you hate to make him wait, But you got to have another cigarette. |
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