Poem: ‘Smokey Thoughts’

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A child was born in Blackburn early on Christmas day.

She became a passive smoker as in her cot she lay.

Her lungs the size of plums filled up with cruel smoke,

To hear her in her cradle coughing made her mother choke.

Smoking makes the stairs seem steeper as your chest runs out of breath,

It fills the air with darkness and leads to certain death.

Smoking in public is an utter disgrace.

Why should we non-smokers foul fumes have to face.

To ban it in eating places was the only answer,

Cutting down on heart attacks and lowering the rate of cancer.

Smoking is a habit, ditch it if you can,

Present in a woman also in the man.

Pleases all that govern raises a lot of tax,

Furs up your arteries with a sticky stodgy wax.

Sticks of death and pipes of poison are certain to bring you grief,

Don’t let your life be taken early by this tobacco thief !

Hugh Davies

Accrington