Classic Poem

A Riddle upon Tobacco

Not drunk yet Drunk by People tain yet not
I was not food yet from west India got
When drunk I increas more thirst: I'm vulgers prey
Rowld up, thence cutt and dride I'm burnt away
Men sat together and each hand did bring
As from Heavns bounty to my suffering
One part but from the Rowle, an other shred
And dried by th'fier at last is Mastered
Those who shun Idlenes to us resort
And with great care small busnes doe in sport
I'm lost by what I'm taken and that dore
Of mouth receivs me whiffs me ever more
Which thou who dost the Clenlier Chimnys dress
Accept in Spittle from my sufferances.