A Highly valuable chain of thoughts

HAD cigarettes no ashes,

And roses ne'er a thorn,

No man would be a funker

Of whin, or burn, or bunker.

There were no need for mashies,

The turf would ne'er be torn,

Had cigarettes no ashes,

And roses ne'er a thorn.

Had cigarettes no ashes,

And roses ne'er a thorn,

The big trout would not ever

Escape into the river.

No gut the salmon smashes

Would leave us all forlorn,

Had cigarettes no ashes,

And roses ne'er a thorn.

But 'tis an unideal

Sad world in which we're born,

And things will 'go contrairy'

With Martin and with Mary:

And every day the real

Comes bleakly in with morn,

And cigarettes have ashes,

And every rose a thorn.