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When swadled in lap,
There’s item for pap,
And item for pot, pan, and ladle ;
A coral with bells
Which custom compels,
And item a crown for a cradle.
With twenty odd knacks,
Which the little one lacks ;
And thus doth the pleasure betray thee :
Yet thus is the sport,
In country and court,
Then let not the charges dismay thee.
TOBACCO'S but an Indian weed,
Grows green at morn, cut down at eve;
It shews our decay, we are but clay,
Think on this when you smoke tobacco.
The pipe that is so lily white,
Wherein so many take delight,
Is broken with a touch; Man's life is such ;
Think on this when you smoke tobacco.
The pipe that is so foul within
Shews how man’s foul is stain'd with sin,
It does require to be purg’d by fire,
Think on this when you smoke tobacco.
The ashes that are left within,
Do serve to put us all in mind
That into dust we must return,
Think on this when you smoke tobacco.
