---
title: Improvement Era
description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930.
authors:
  - Frank C. Steele
collections:
  - periodicals
tags:
  - magazine
  - improvement-era
periodical: Improvement Era
volume: 24
number: 3
published: 1921-01
publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations
publisher_place: Salt Lake City
language: en
type: magazine
reference: 'Frank C. Steele, "Just a Cigarette," *Improvement Era* 24, no. 3 (January 1921): 254–254.'
source:
  url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2403unse
  transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers.
  identifier: improvementera2403unse
start_page: 254
end_page: 254
rights:
  status: public-domain
  basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1921-01)
  source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2403unse
  publication_year: 1921
  note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1921, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright.
---

# Just a Cigarette

<!-- page:254 -->

;                ——

Just a Cigarette

      I'm only just a cigarette,
              A tiny little thing,
      And yet the pow'r I have o'er men
              Is    mightier than a king.

      I rule          not with an iron hand,
              I    boast no kingly claim;
      Yet thousands found in every land
              Pay homage to my name.

      I       have no court around my throne;
              No armies drilled to fight.
      The secret of my pow'r be known:
              'Tis in    man's appetite.

      When subject I would make of man.
              I test    his vertebrae
      And if he be too weak to stand.
        Then I have won the day.

      I       bend his shoulders to a curve,
              I    hollow out his chest,
      I       play upon his every nerve,
              I    never   let    him rest.

      I       make a dim and bloodshot eye,
              I stain his        finger tips,
      I       make his lungs feel parched and dry,
              I spoil his        shapely lips.

      I       neutralize his natural will,
              I    blight his intellect.
      And then I do him more things still
               I   take his self-respect.

      I       leave a stench about his clothes:
                  A foul, distasteful smell.
          I   have him marked where'er he goes,
                  So everyone can tell.

          I       rob him of his richest dow'r;
                  Bring failure and regret.
          Now can you see what mighty pow'r?
           A simple cigarette.
                                         J.   Alfred Jacob son.