#1.
B
Now I'm a fellow with a heart of gold,
E
And the ways of a gentleman I've been told,
F# B
kind of a guy that wouldn't even harm a flea.
B
But if me and a certain character met,
E
the guy that invented the cigarette,
F# B
I'd murder that son-of-a gun in the first degree.
#2.
B
It ain't cause I don't smoke 'em myself,
E
and I don't reckon that it'll hinder your health,
F# B
I smoked 'em all my life, and I ain't dead yet.
B
But nicotine slaves are all the same,
E
at a pettin' party or a poker game,
F# B
everything gotta stop, while they have a cigarette.
CHORUS:
B
Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette.
C# F#
Puff, puff, puff until you smoke yourself to death.
F# B
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate,
E
that you hate to make him wait,
B F# B
but you just gotta have another cigarette.
#3.
B
In a game of chance the other night,
E
Old Dame Fortune was good and right,
F# B
The kings and queens they kept on comin' around.
B
Aw, I was hittin' 'em good and bettin' 'em high,
E
but my bluff didn't work on a certain guy,
F# B
he kept callin', and layin' his money down.
B
See, he'd raise me, then I'd raise him,
E
and I'd say to him buddy, ya gotta sink or swim,
F# B
he finally called me but didn't raise the bet.
B
Hmmm..I said, Aces Full, pal..I got you!
E
He said, I'll pay up in a minute or two,
F# B
but right now, I just gotta have another cigarette.
CHORUS:
B
Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette.
C# F#
Puff, puff, puff until you smoke yourself to death.
F# B
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate,
E
that you hate to make him wait,
B F# B
but you just gotta have another cigarette.
#4.
B
Now the other night I had a date,
E
with the cutest little gal in any state,
F# B
a high-bred, uptown, fancy little dame.
B
She said she loved me and it seemd to me,
E
that things were sorta like they oughtta be,
F# B
so, hand in hand we strolled down lovers lane.
B
She was a long way from a chunk of ice,
E
and our pettin' party was goin' real nice,
F# B
and I got an idea I might have been there, yet.
B
So I give her a kiss and a little squeeze,
E
Then she said, Travis, excuse me please,
F# B
but I just gotta have a cigarette.
CHORUS:
B
Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette.
C# F#
Puff, puff, puff until you smoke yourself to death.
F# B
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate,
E
that you hate to make him wait,
B F# B
but you just gotta have another cigarette.
B forties, fifties, sixties, and seventies smash from Kraziekhat.
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