Tom Brown wants to fill each lung
With a swirling mass of smoke
But he is frankly far too young –
And a decent sort of bloke.
Yes, he may crave carcinogen,
Behind the fabled shed,
But boys are boys, and men are men,
And the smoke would turn his head.
Better far for Thomas Brown,
While he is young and green,
For tobacconists to howl him down
Until he is eighteen,
And it will teach him what is right,
And make him doubly tough,
If he has to watch the prefects light
Themselves a decent puff.
A public ban? It wouldn't cause
The lad to change behaviour –
He has to learn that laws are laws,
That the Government's his saviour.
Consensual sex for Tom? Of course!
He's old enough to shag,
But not to smoke. Who calls him, hoarse? –
Ah, it's Flashman calling 'Fag!'