Submitted by Sharon bury
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One evening when my car ran out of petrol Coming home,
I chose to carry on, on foot, uphill and all alone,
Then had to stop atop the brow for I was out of breath
Besides it gave me chance to light another stick of death,
And when with further miles to tred I’d smoked my little treat,
I couldn’t get the air required to mobilise my feet
My sad dilemmas not unique it happens all the while,
I knew my second wind could prove to start my final mile,
But as I lived to make it home I did without regret,
Get comfy and I think you’ve guessed ignite a cigarette,
So hail sir Walter Raleigh he’s the champion of us all,
We thank him for tobacco as beneath it’s spell we fall,
Thanks also to the government and the inland revenue,
Though as it’s we who make the choice there’s nothing they can do,
Now if perchance a magic cure turns up today I’ll grab it,
But should it not I swear next week to kick the filthy habit,
Or if I die because my lungs are so clogged up with tar
I bequeath them to my wife that she may fuel the family car.
Poet's Corner 
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