An Ode to Mixture No. 79

While inside the Ziploc bag it lay
My nostrils were filled with much dismay
Was it licorice, vanilla, whisky? – nay!
Just lavender, soap, tar, and decay

But I soldiered on like a warrior brave
And stuffed my pipe with Burley aftershave
But soon I began to rant and rave
And almost longed to be dead in the grave

For when match touched leaf I did despair
And thought that I tasted baboon hair
Or perhaps the anus of a bear
Or Queen Elizabeth’s underwear

It’s nothing like a fine aged wine
Shared with a beloved valentine
‘Tis more like a sun that doesn’t shine
Or grapes that die upon the vine

Your taste is yours, and mine is mine
Some like tofu, some like swine
But I for one will never pine
For this sickly Mixture 79


PS: Tim, feel free to disqualify me if you want since I already won something - I just couldn't resist the challenge!