All day long, quite unprotected,
Does he leave his wife at home;
And she cannot see her cousins,
Even when they kindly come!"
Then the young Life-Guardsman, rising,
Scarce vouchsafes a single word,
But, with look of deadly menace,
Claps his hand upon his sword;
And in fear I faintly falter—
"This your cousin, then he's mine!
Very glad, indeed, to see you,-
Won't you stop with us, and dine?"
Won't a ferret suck a rabbit?—
As a thing of course he stops;
And with most voracious swallow
Walks into my mutton-chops.
In the twinkling of a bed-post
Is each savoury platter clear,
And he shows uncommon science
In his estimate of beer.
Half-and-half goes down before him,
Gurgling from the pewter pot;
And he moves a counter motion
For a glass of something hot.
Neither chops nor beer I grudge him,
Nor a moderate share of goes;
But I know not why he's always
Treading upon Mary's toes.
Evermore, when, home returning,
From the counting-house I come,
Do I find the young Life-Guardsman
Smoking pipes and drinking rum.
Evermore he stays to dinner,
Evermore devours my meal;
For I have a wholesome horror
Both of powder and of steel.
Yet I know he's Mary's cousin,
For my only son and heir
Much resembles that young Guardsman,
"With the self-same curly hair;