'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.