I offer this ironic gem from the 19th century.

MY LAST CIGAR
(Anon mid 1800's, published in READ 'EM AND WEEP; first published in 1868)

'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 breath'd a sigh to think, in sooth,
It was my last cigar.

Chorus:

It was my last cigar;
It was my last cigar,
I breath'd 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. (CHO)

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 crept slowly on;
It vanished into air;
I throw it from me, spare the tale,
It was my last cigar. (CHO)

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. (CHO)

And a woman is only a woman but...;)