111. My Last Cigar

Chant de marins, Amérique. Traditionnel.

 'Twas off the blue Canary Isles,
A glorious Summer day,
I sat upon the quarter deck,
And whiffed my cares away.
And as the volumed smoke arose,
Like incense in the air,
I breathed a sigh to think in sooth.
It was my last cigar.

I leaned upon the quarter rail,
And looked down in the sea,
E'en there the purple wreath of smoke
Was curling gracefully.
Oh, what had I at such a time
To do with wasting care?
Alas! the trembling tear proclaimed,
It was my last cigar.

I watched the ashes as it came
Fast drawing toward the end,
I watched it as a friend would watch
Beside a dying friend;
But still the flame swept slowly on,
It vanished into air;
I threw it from me – spare the tale;
It was my last cigar.

I've seen the land of all I love
Fade in the distance dim,
I've watched above the blighted heart,
Where once proud hope hath been;
But I’ve never known a sorrow,
That could with that compare,
When off the blue Canaries
I smoked my last cigar.

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