In memory of the first cigarette I tried. Never again. Pass me the whiskey!
The poem has a new last stanza which is an input by Mr. Ashok Bhatia. He is an accomplished blogger who writes about Wodehouse. His blog can be found here.
Mr Bhatia, thank you very much for your input sir.
Growing up in a cloud
Born from a cylinder
Two millimeters long
Clasped in pursed lips
Is the Passively Active Smoker
Inhaling secondhand smoke
From bedrooms and parlours
And under street lamps
He has adapted
And today his curiosity got the better of him
And he decided to light up
A racking cough later,
Couple of bitter tears shed,
And he decided to give up
The poem has a new last stanza which is an input by Mr. Ashok Bhatia. He is an accomplished blogger who writes about Wodehouse. His blog can be found here.
Mr Bhatia, thank you very much for your input sir.
Growing up in a cloud
Born from a cylinder
Two millimeters long
Clasped in pursed lips
Is the Passively Active Smoker
From bedrooms and parlours
And under street lamps
He has adapted
And he decided to light up
A racking cough later,
Couple of bitter tears shed,
And he decided to give up
The Bilge Master
If I may be allowed to supplement:
ReplyDelete'A racking cough later,
Couple of bitter tears shed,
And he decided to give up'!