A Vain Appeal

[From Edwin] Now, Angelina, put it down. Let me entreat you not to smoke it; You dread your Edwin's lightest frown, Or so you say well, don't provoke it. No No I'm serious just now, Great weight to every word attaches; What's that you ask me? Anyhow To pass the matches! You shall have chocolates to eat Of every possible description; Those rosy lips are much too sweet To soil with Yankee or Egyptian. Your smiles with trinkets I'll entice Or silly frillies made of chiffon, Till once again you say I'm nice And not a griffon. Among those violet-scented curls The smell of stale tobacco lingers, And oh ! to think my best of girls Should go about with yellow fingers. Are you aware that stain will spread Right up your arm and past your shoulder And ruin What was that you said? You'll use a holder! No, Angelina, I insist! Come, darling .... what, you're surely joking? You are not anxious to be kissed You'd sooner give up me than smoking So be it take your cigarette And smoke it, love and homage scorning, But suffer me, with much regret, To say 'Good morning'!