Part 2 — TOBACCO IS AN INDIAN WEED.

Tobacco's but an Indian weed, Grows green at morn, cut down at eve; It shows decay; we are but clay; Think of this when you smoke tobacco. The pipe that is so lily white, Wherein so many take delight, Is broke with a touch,—man's life is such; Think of this when you smoke tobacco. The pipe that is so foul within Shows how man's soul is stained with sin, And then the fire it doth require; Think of this when you smoke tobacco. The ashes that are left behind Do serve to put us all in mind That unto dust return we must; Think of this when you smoke tobacco. The smoke that does so high ascend Shews us man's life must have an end; The vapor's gone,—man's life is done; Think of this when you smoke tobacco.