The Cigar by Thomas Hood

Some 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.

Honors 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.