THE CIGAR.

OME sigh for this and that; My wishes don’t go far; The world may wag at will, So I have my cigar. Some fret themselves to death With Whig and Tory jar, I don’t care which is in, So I have my cigar. Sir John requests my vote, And so does Mr. Marr; I don’t care how it goes, So I have my cigar. Some want a German row, Some wish a Russian war; I care not—I’m at peace, So I have my cigar. I never see the Post, I seldom read the Star; The Globe I scarcely heed, So I have my cigar. They tell me that Bank Stock Is sunk much under par; It’s all the same to me, So I have my cigar. Honours have come to men My juniors at the Bar; No matter—I can wait, So I have my cigar. Ambition frets me not; A cab or glory’s car Are just the same to me, So I have my cigar. I worship no vain gods, But serve the household Lar; I’m sure to be at home, So I have my cigar. I do not seek for fame, A General with a scar; A private let me be, So I have my cigar. To have my choice among The toys of life’s bazaar, The deuce may take them all So I have my cigar. Some minds are often tost By tempests like a tar; I always seem in port, So I have my cigar. The ardent flame of love My bosom cannot char, I smoke, but do not burn, So I have my cigar. They tell me Nancy Low Has married Mr. R.; The jilt! but I can live, So I have my cigar.