a smoke, in times of old
large whisky so i’m told
to warm the hearts and minds
to keep the different kinds
but now we have to jibe
at those who might imbibe
a pipe is peace no more
one over, here’s the door
how could the smiling end
and stranger be no friend
why did the rhymester frown
the jester lose his crown
for all, the better good
or maybe we all should
©2011 Hey Hey
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