I Must Have Good Terbaccy When I Smoke

I was talking to a swaggy yesterday
Oh his beard was long his hair was silver grey
His dress was out of style

But he wore a friendly smile
And here is what the old man had to say
You may think me most unusual my boy

When I tell you straight that I am stoney broke
I tramp from year to year
And I'll drink all kinds of beer
But I must have good terbaccy when I smoke

Now I tell you this here old tobaccy tin
And the paint is gone the sides are dented in
And it's opened many a bottle
In it's wild and chequered life
And to me it has always been a friend

I one time had wife and everything
But a strange came and soon we were apart
So I left my friends and home
And I hit the road to roam
But nicotine has mended my old heart

Now when finally they reach the golden gate
They say Saint Peter he's a decent bloke
If I'm taken with the blessed
This will be my last request
Oh I liked to have good baccy when I smoke

Yes I was talking to that swaggy yesterday
And what he told me I'll remember clear
Tramping out there with the breeze
Happy as the birds and bees
And I reckon that he has the right idea