I recall one time when I was a lad
A bit of advice I got from my Dad.
I'd retired "out-back" and reached for the "Mak'ins."
It was right after breakfast of eggs and bacon.
I rolled a smoke like any cowboy'd do -
Admired it a bit and lit it, too.
I got it going good but then turned pale
Cause I heard someone coming down the trail.
I chucked my cigarette down a crack in the floor
Just before my Dad walked through the door.
He stepped in and sniffed around
And I knew then, I was on thin ground.
The smoke swirled up from the crack in the floor
And I wished that I was out that door.
Dad sat down and rolled a smoke
And lit it up before he spoke.
He said, "son, is that your cigarette smoking?"
I knew at a glance he wasn't joking.
I hung my head and said "Yes, it is."
Then he flicked his ashes and looked at his.
"Son," he said, "just look at me.
I've smoked for years as you can see.
My teeth aren't clean and my fingers are yellow.
It's a mighty bad habit to get, young fellow.
I used to chew and that's worse, yet.
The tobacco habit is easy to get.
Son, if you quit now it'll be easy to do
But if you don't, it'll get the best of you."
Now, he didn't exactly say this in rhyme
But, I've remembered his words for a mighty long time.
I'll always be grateful for that smoke in the crack
And the lecture Dad gave me in the "house-out-back."
"author unknown"