The day my doctor died of smoking
I bought myself a fat cigar -
I realised he must be joking,
His funeral was so bizarre:

A dwarf in multi-coloured clothing
Sang louder than the parish choir
And though my heart was full of loathing
I leapt upon the funeral pyre.

I'd often longed for such a roasting
And knew it was my friend's desire,
I shouted out 'We'll all be toasting
In Hell's incandescent fire! '

Don't be discouraged by this story,
Smoking cigarettes is fine,
Inhale them on your days of glory
And drink your fill of rich, red wine! !

John Thorkild Ellison

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poetry-can-damage-your-health/