The image above reminds me of a bit of tbradsim-inspired poetry that I posted here on the Forums a few years back:
On Bradley’s porch in old Monroe
We will puff, and smoke-rings blow
With pipes in hand, we’ll talk and view
The cane-fields, sunset, and PMon, too
And when his Wife the bell doth ring
We’ll sup on gumbo, that’s the thing!
Then back for one last pipe ‘fore bed
And wish these friends great days ahead!