We saved up a tanner and ran to the shop down the road
then crept quietly back home hiding our precious load.
No one was around so the three of us crept up the stairs
The excitement mounting as the light from the match flares.

We all had a fag in our mouths and we inhaled the smoke
then each one of us turned bright red and began to choke.
We’d bought 5 woodbines because they were the cheapest
but they wouldn’t listen when I said Park Drive were the best.


Inspired by a poem about smoking published by Bijay Kant Dubey