With sister Belle she couldn't part,
But all my ties had leave to jog—-
What d' ye think of that, my
Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?
The mother brought a pretty Poll—
A monkey too, what work he made!
The sister introduced a Beau-
My Susan brought a favourite maid.
She had a tabby of her own,—
A snappish mongrel christen'd Gog-
What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?
The Monkey bit-the Parrot scream'd,
All day the sister strumm'd and sung;
The petted maid was such a scold!
My Susan learn'd to use her tongue;
Her mother had such wretched health,
She sate and croak'd like any frog-
What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?
No longer Deary, Duck, and Love,
I soon came down to simple "M!”
The very servants cross'd my wish,
My Susan let me down to them.
The poker hardly seem'd my own,
I might as well have been a log—
What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d' ye think of that, my Dog?
My clothes they were the queerest shape!
Such coats and hats she never met!
My ways they were the oddest ways!
My friends were such a vulgar set!
Poor Tomkinson was snubb'd and huff'd,
"She could not bear that Mister Blogg-
What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?
At times we had a spar, and then
Mama must mingle in the song-
The sister took a sister's part—
The Maid declar'd her Master wrong-
The Parrot learn'd to call me "Fool!"
My life was like a London fog-
What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?
My Susan's taste was superfine,
As proved by bills that had no end-
I never had a decent coat—
I never had a coin to spend !
She forced me to resign my Club,
Lay down my pipe, retrench my grog―
What d'
ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?
Each Sunday night we gave a rout
To fops and flirts, a pretty list;
And when I tried to steal away,
I found my study full of whist!
Then, first to come and last to go,
There always was a Captain Hogg-
What d' ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?
Now was not that an awful dream
For one who single is and snug-
With Pussy in the elbow-chair
And Tray reposing on the rug?—
If I must totter down the hill,
'Tis safest done without a clog—
What d'ye think of that, my Cat?
What d'ye think of that, my Dog?
It was a merry company,
And they were just afloat,
When lo! a man, of dwarfish span,
Came up and hail'd the boat.
"Good morrow to ye, gentle folks,
And will you let me in?—
A slender space will serve my case,
For I am small and thin."
They saw he was a dwarfish man,
And very small and thin;
Not seven such would matter much,
And so they took him in.
They laugh'd to see his little hat,
With such a narrow brim;
They laugh'd to note his dapper coat,
With skirts so scant and trim.
But barely had they gone a mile,
When, gravely, one and all,
At once began to think the man
Was not so very small.
His coat had got a broader skirt,
His hat a broader brim,
His leg grew stout, and soon plump'd out A very proper limb.
Still on they went, and as they went,
More rough the billows grew,-
And rose and fell, a greater swell,
And he was swelling too!
And lo! where room had been for seven,
For six there scarce was space!
For five-for four!-for three !-not more
Than two could find a place!
There was not even room for one!
They crowded by degrees-
Aye-closer yet, till elbows met,
And knees were jogging knees.
"Good sir, you must not sit a-stern,
The wave will else come in!"
Without a word he gravely stirr'd,
Another seat to win.
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