Michael Nesmith
Smoke, Smoke, Smoke
Now, I’m a fella with a heart of gold
And the ways of a gentleman, I’ve been told
I’m the 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
Oh, it’s not because I don’t smoke myself
Although I’m pretty sure that they’ll harm your health
But I’ve smoked all my life, and I ain’t dead yet
It’s just that smokin’ slaves are all the same
At a bettin’ party or a poker game
And everything’s gotta stop while they have a cigarette
Well, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Yeah, puff, puff, puff, and if you smoke yourself to death
Tell Saint Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta have another cigarette
Well, in a game of chance just the other night
Old dame fortune was a-treatin’ me right
’Cause the kings and the queens just a-kept on comin’ ’round
So I played ’em hard, and I bet ’em high
But my bluff didn’t work on a certain guy
He kept on raisin’ and layin’ his money down
Yeah, he raised me, and then I’d raise him
Oh, I sweated blood, I had to sink or swim
And he finally called and didn’t raise the bet
I said, “Ace’s Full, pal, how ’bout you?”
And he said, “Well, I’ll tell ya in a minute or two
But just right now, I think I’ll have a cigarette”
Well, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Yeah, puff, puff, puff, and if you smoke yourself to death
Tell Saint Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta have another cigarette
Yeah, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
Yeah, puff, puff, puff, and if you smoke yourself to death
Tell Saint Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hate to make him wait
But you just gotta have another cigarette
Yes, you just gotta have another cigarette
Give me a hit, son