The Smoker's Year Book
The verses written on paper by
Oliver Herford
&
The pictures drawn on stone by
Sewell Collins
The whole published by
MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY NEW YORK 1908
Copyright, 1908, by MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY
NEW YORK
All rights reserved
Published, October, 1908
JANUARY
Now Time the harvester surveys
His sorry crops of yesterdays;
Of trampled hopes and reaped regrets,
And for another harvest whets
His ancient scythe, eying the while
The budding year with cynic smile.
Well, let him smile; in snug retreat
I fill my pipe with honeyed sweet,
Whose incense wafted from the bowl
Shall make warm sunshine in my soul,
And conjure mid the fragrant haze
Fair memories of other days.
FEBRUARY
Bend you now before the shrine
Of the good Saint Valentine.
Show to him your broken heart—
Pray the Saint to take your part.
Should he intercede in vain
And the maid your heart disdain,
Call upon Saint Nicotine;
He will surely intervene.
Bring burnt off'ring to his feet,
Incense of Havana, sweet.
Then the maiden's shade invoke,
It will disappear in smoke!
MARCH
Here comes bluff March—a cross between
A Jester and a Libertine.
He loves to make the parson race
With wicked words his hat to chase;
To dye with compromising rose
The pious man's abstemious nose.
The ladies hate him, though he shows
A pretty taste for silken hose.
The smoker views him with distrust,
Shielding his last match from his gust.
But once alight—his holy joy
No blast from Heaven can destroy!