Pipe!

When the old split-bottom rocker is far better than a throne,

And the visions of the fancy are the fairest earth has known,

And you watch the mystic shapes that the dancing shadows write,

Then glory hallelujah! Git yer

Old

Cob

Pipe!

[Pg 14]

When your dressing gown and slippers might be envied by a king,

And the voices of the children sound as sweet as birds' that sing,

And the feelings that possess you are all of heavenly type,

Then glory hallelujah! Git yer

Old

Cob

Pipe!

When the ringlets aromatic have circled round your head,

And a drowsiness o'ertakes you, and you want to go to bed,

And the bowlful that you're smoking has burned to ashes white,

Then glory hallelujah! Quit yer

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