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Giving up Smoking ©

Danny Reynolds
Dalton in Furness, England

Itís been ten weeks since my last fag,
After smoking for 36 years.
I canít say I feel any better at all,
Though Iíve increased my intake of beers.

My stick insect frame, doesnít quite look the same,
And Iím struggling at night to watch telly.
Thereís no fault with my eyes,
But since I ate all the pies,
I appear to have grown a new belly.

I like my new belly,
Itís my new best mate.
My own portable table, for resting my plate.
ďWhatís so good about that?Ē
I hear you all say,
Itís a godsend, now Iím on
35 meals a day.

ďThe house smells much cleaner!Ē
At least, so Iíve been told.
But Iíve had no sense of smell,
Since I had that 'Man's cold'.

You know what I mean, ladies?
Iím sure that you do.
What you call a sniffle,
To us would be flu!
(However, in my case, it happened to be true!)(Honest!!)

The aromas may come back to me, soon?
Who can tell?
So the taste of my food, should improve as well.
All that nicotine and tar, can just go to hell!
Me and my 12 pack are doing just swell.

To help replace, the fags and matches,
This time I did it with the 24-hour patches.
I know that theyíve helped,
So I think I can beat it.
If you suggested, 'Cold Turkey'.
Iíd just want to eat it!

My rapid expansion wonít cause me to frown,
Though as my weight balloons,
The wifeís is coming down.

Sheís on, 'Red days' and 'Green days',
And gets a sticker on her book.
While Iím on 'pig-out' days,
Only pausingÖÖ cook!

Now once Iím sure, that the fags are in the past.
(And I am fairly sure, that Iíve puffed on my last.)
Iím sure my new weight rise, will gradually slow,
'Cause Iíve got no more holes on my belt left to go!

My poor wife was prepared,
For my tantrums and rants,
But not my new loveÖÖ
Some baggy, Jogging-Pants.

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