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No longer Deary, Duck, and Love, I soon came down to simple “M!” The very servants crossed my wish, My Susan let me down to them. The poker hardly seemed 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 Tompkinson was snubbed and huffed, 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 Mamma must mingle in the song The sister took a sister's part — The maid declared her master wrongThe parrot learned 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
And they were just afloat,
Came up and hailed the boat.
And will you let me in? —
For I am small and thin.”
And very small and thin;
And so they took him in.
They laughed to see his little hat,
With such a narrow brim;
With skirts so scant and trim.
When, gravely, one and all
Was not so very small.
His hat a broader brim,
A very proper limb.
More rough the billows grew,-
And he was swelling too !
For six there scarce was space!
Than two could find a place !
They crowded by degrees —
And knees were jogging knees.
The wave will else come in ! ” Without a word he gravely stirred,
Another seat to win.
You must not sit a-lee !”.
The middle seat took he.
But still, by constant quiet growth,
His back became so wide,
Was thrust against the side.
That they had let him in !
That came so small and thin.
They grew so scared and hot,-
Who are ye, sir, and what?”
As loud as giant's roar -
Was Little — now I'm Moore!"
Inclined for some sport with the carnal,
And quietly stole from his charnel. His head was bald of flesh and of hair,
His body was lean and lank ; His joints at each stir made a crack, and the cur
Took a gnaw, by the way, at his shank. And what did he do with his deadly darts,
This goblin of grisly bone ? He dabbled and spilled man's blood, and he killed Like a butcher that kills his own.
The first he slaughtered it made him laugh,
(For the man was a coffin-maker,)
Would mourn for an undertaker.
Quoth he, “ We shall not differ.”
For he could not make them stiffer.
In fear they could not smother;
They never would shoot each other.
And he gave a snore infernal;
Can never be more eternal.”
So slow that his fare grew sick;
For Death only wars on the quick.
In the spirit of his fraternity;
Though summoned to all eternity.
But he let him write no further;
Is jealous of all self-murther!
And a doctor that took the sum;
Was a prelude to "faw” and “fum."