Paul Adams & his Mayfair Music - Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette) | Текст песни

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• Paul Adams & his Mayfair Music
• Smoke! Smoke! Smoke! (That Cigarette)

Now I'm a fellow with a heart of gold,
And the ways of a gentleman I've been told,
kind of a guy that wouldn't even harm a flea.
But if me and a certain character met,
the guy that invented the cigarette,
I'd murder that son-of-a gun in the first degree.

It ain't cause I don't smoke 'em myself,
and I don't reckon that it'll hinder your health,
I smoked 'em all my life, and I ain't dead yet.
But nicotine slaves are all the same,
at a pettin' party or a poker game,
everything gotta stop, while they have a 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.

In a game of chance the other night,
Old Dame Fortune was good and right,
The kings and queens they kept on comin' around.
Aw, I was hittin' 'em good and bettin' 'em high,
but my bluff didn't work on a certain guy,
he kept callin', and layin' his money down.
See, he'd raise me, then I'd raise him,
and I'd say to him buddy, ya gotta sink or swim,
he finally called me but didn't raise the bet.
Hmmm..I said, Aces Full, pal..I got you!
He said, I'll pay up in a minute or two,
but right now, 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.

Now the other night I had a date,
with the cutest little gal in any state,
a high-bred, uptown, fancy little dame.
She said she loved me and it seemd to me,
that things were sorta like they oughtta be,
so, hand in hand we strolled down lovers lane.
She was a long way from a chunk of ice,
and our pettin' party was goin' real nice,
and I got an idea I might have been there, yet.
So I give her a kiss and a little squeeze,
Then she said, Travis, excuse me please,
but I just gotta have a 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.

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