She look'd so fair, she sang so well, I could but woo and she was won; Myself in blue, the bride in white, The ring was placed, the deed was done! Away we went in chaise-and-four, As fast as grinning boys could flog-- What d'ye think of that my cat? What d'ye think of that my dog? What loving tete-a-tetes to come! What tete-a-tetes must still defer! When Susan came to live with me, Her mother came to live with her! 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 favorite maid. She had a tabby of her own,-- A snappish mongrel christened Grog,-- What d'ye think of that, my cat? What d'ye think of that, my dog? The monkey bit--the parrot screamed, All day the sister strummed and sung, The petted maid was such a scold! My Susan learned to use her tongue; Her mother had such wretched health, She sat and croaked 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 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 wrong-- The 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 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? ON SAMUEL ROGERS. LORD BYRON. Question.