Friday, July 7, 2017

Nicotine slaves just ruin everything...Just ask Tex...and Jimmy

by Angela K. Durden 





Now I'm a fellow with a heart of gold
With the ways of a gentleman I've been told
A kind of a fellow that wouldn't even harm a flea
But if me and a certain character met
That guy that invented the cigarette
I'd murder that son of a gun in the first degree
Now, it ain't that I don't smoke myself
And I don't reckon they'll injure your health
I've smoked 'em all my life and I ain't dead yet
But nicotine slaves are all the same
At a bettin' party or a poker game
Everything gotta stop when they have that cigarette

Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff
Until you smoke yourself to death
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta have another cigarette

Now at a game of chance the other night
Ol' Dame Fortune was treating me right
Them kings and queens just kept on comin' round
Well I got a full and I betted it high
But my bluff didn't work on a certain guy
He just kept a raisin' and a layin' that money down
He'd raise me and I'd raise him
I sweated blood, I had to sink or swim
He finally called and then didn't raise the bet
I said "Aces four, pal, how about you?"
He said "I'll tell you in a minute or two
But I just gotta have another cigarette"

Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff
Until you smoke yourself to death
Tell St Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta have another cigarette

The other night I had a date with
The cutest gal in the fifty states
A high bred uptown social little dame
She said she loved me and it seemed to me
That things were like they ought a be
So hand in hand we strolled down Lover's Lane
She was oh so far from a chunk of ice
And our smoochin' party was a goin' real nice
So help me and I think I'd of been there yet
But I give her a hug and a little squeeze
And she said "Baby, excuse me please
But I just gotta have another cigarette."
Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff
Until you smoke yourself to death
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta have another cigarette

Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Puff, puff, puff
Until you smoke yourself to death
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta have another cigarette
Just gotta have another cigarette

Written by Merle Travis, Tex Williams

Copyright © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc

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