Pipe of Tobacco

Tobacco is an Indian weed, Grows in the morn, is cut down at eve It shows its decay; Man's life is like hay. Think of this when you smoke tobacco.

The pipe that is so lily white, Wherein many take delight; It is broken with a touch; Man's life it is such. Think of this, &c.

The pipe, that is so foul within, Shows man's life is stain'd with sin; It therefore doth require To be purified with fire. Think of this, &c.

The smoke, that doth ascend on high, Shows man's life is vanity; All earthly stuff Is nothing but a puff. Think of this, &c.

The ashes, that are left behind, Are for to put us all in mind, That unto dust, Return we must. Think of this, &c.