I receive them as I buy them
From the boxes of Havana,
The concoctor, the weird wizard.
Should you ask how this Havana
Made cigars so strong and soothing,
Made the “bird’s eye,” and “York-river,”
I should answer, I should tell you,
In the purlieus of the cities,
In the cellars of the warehouse,
In the dampness of the dungeon,