So, sometimes I’ll feel fine with trotting out a little bit of an old, favorite bit of poem.. This one has been a longtime favorite, it brings up a
rather good point, at least I figure so, and it’s a little funny, too. Meanwhile, I think that every one around can use a decent cigar and a couple minutes out of the game, right?
Yeah, and Maggie sounds like a <I>bitch</i>!
The Betrothed
“You must choose between me and your cigar.”
–BREACH OF PROMISE CASE, CIRCA 1885.
Open the old cigar-box, get me a Cuba stout,
For things are running crossways, and Maggie and I are out.
We quarrelled about Havanas–we fought o’er a good cheroot,
And I knew she is exacting, and she says I am a brute.
Open the old cigar-box–let me consider a space;
In the soft blue veil of the vapour musing on Maggie’s face.
Maggie is pretty to look at–Maggie’s a loving lass,
But the prettiest cheeks must wrinkle, the truest of loves must pass.
There’s peace in a Larranaga, there’s calm in a Henry Clay;
But the best cigar in an hour is finished and thrown away–
