paroles de chanson Smoke, Smoke, Smoke (That Cigarette) - Frank Sinatra , Dean Martin , The Rat Pack , Sammy Davis, Jr.

Now I′m a fellow with a heart of gold
With the ways of a gentleman I've been told
The kind of fellow that wouldn′t even harm a fly

But if me and a certain character met
The guy that invented the cigarette
I'd murder that son-of-a-gun in the first degree

Cause, it ain't cause I don′t smoke myself
And I don′t reckon into your health
I've smoked them all my life and I ain′t dead yet

But nicotine slaves are all the same
At a pettin' party or a poker game
Everything′s gotta stop while they smoke the cigarette

(Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette)
(Puff, puff, puff and if you smoke yourself to death)
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hates to make him wait
You've gotta have another cigarette

In a game of chance the other night
Old Dame Fortune was doin′ me right
The kings and the queens just kept on comin' around

I got a full and I bet 'em high
But my bluff didn′t work on a certain guy
He just kept on raisin′ and layin' that money down

He′d raise me, I'd raise him
I sweated blood, you gotta sink or swim
He finally called, didn′t raise the bet

I said "aces full pal, how 'bout you?"
He said "I′ll tell you in just a minute or two
Right now, I just gotta have myself a cigarette"

(Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette)
(Puff, puff, puff and if you smoke yourself to death)
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hates to make him wait
You've gotta have another cigarette

The other night I had me a date
With the cutest little gal on East 50 States
One 'em high-bred, uptown, fancy little dames

She said she loved me and it seemed to me
That everything′s were like it oughta be
So hand in hand we strolled down lover′s lane

She was oh so far from a chunk of ice
Our smoochin' party was goin′ real nice
So help me, Hannah I'm thinking I′ve been there yet

I give her a kiss, a little squeeze
She said, "Tex, excuse me please
But I just gotta have a filtered cigarette"

(Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette)
(Puff, puff, puff and if you smoke yourself to death)
Tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate
That you hates to make him wait
You've just gotta have another cigarette