Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette! (OST Здесь курят)
Now I'm a feller with a heart of gold And the ways of a gentleman I've been told The kind of 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 cuz I don't smoke myself And I don't reckon that it'll harm your health Smoked 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 and if 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 in a game of chance the other night Old Dame Fortune was a-doin' me right The kings and the queens just kept on comin' round
And I got a full and I bet 'em high But my bluff didn't work on a certain guy He just kept on raisin' and layin' that money down
Now he'd raise me and I'd raise him I sweated blood, gotta sink or swim He finally called and didn't even raise the bet
So I said "aces full Pops how 'bout you?" He said "I'll tell you in a minute or two But right now, I gotta have me a cigarette"
Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette Puff, puff, puff and if you smoke yourself to death Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate That you hates to make him wait But you just gotta have another cigarette
(Ah, smoke it! Hah! Yes! Yes! Yes!)
The other night I had a date With the cutest little girl in the United States A high-bred, uptown, fancy little dame
She loved me and it seemed to me That things were 'bout like they oughta be So hand in hand we strolled down lover's lane
She was oh so far from a cake of ice And our smoochin' party was goin' nice So help me cats I believe I'd be there yet
But I give her a kiss and a little squeeze And she said, "ah, Marty, excuse me please I just gotta have me another, cigarette"
And she said, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette Puff, puff, puff and if 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