The Tobacco Song (traditional Newfoundland) Ye fellows smokes tobacco, come pity my case I'm here on this island without a damn taste Surrounded by ice and encompassed with snow In search of that weed I don't know where to go Oh, the great God of Heaven have pity on I And send me some 'baccy or else I will die 'Tis six weeks or better since I had a draw And I can't remember when I had a draw Ye fellows smokes tea, well ye'd better beware It is very scarce and most damnable dear And my opinion a good cup of tea Would suit you far better than to smoke it away Ye fellows smokes moss, the worse robbers of all Goes away with their bags picking that in the Fall If they'd leave it alone, sure 'twould keep their house tight But they're only just making a fool of the pipe I can't smoke the stuff I sees some people smoke Such as withrod and shavings and strands of old rope Some they say was it is good to chaw But it loosens your teeth, puts a kink in your jaw If the wind veers northeast then the ice it will go We'll all get some 'baccy St Peter's I know Every man with his tavern stuck out of his gob And to hell we'll shove shavings, spuce rind, and withrod From the collection of Andrew Draskoy, andrew@bransle.ucs.mun.ca AJS oct97
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!