Rush to Judgement

Tobacco's virtues, he would say,
Are greatly under-rated:
He told the truth once in a way,
For now he's choked and crated.

The breath that bellowed from his lungs
Blew forth forever meaner;
The tomb is quiet, so his tongue's
Stopped up with dirt that's cleaner.

His sermons lulled with rant and rave,
That bludgeoned thought to coma;
Come dance a little on his grave
And cheer his carcinoma.

Anna Murcan