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.