The Sabre from his Hat, cut off the Crown.
Whilst hapless Joe, escaping, tho’ full sad,
He’d lost that Day the only Crown he had,
But felt consol’d, when at a distance fled,
His Crown had lost, but still had got his Head.
John, in the bustle, thought Joe’s Head had tumbled,
And ’mongst the Ladies furbelows was jumbled.
The poor Madames, arrested in their flight,
Were sprawling in the Street, in woeful plight—
Screaming, and fainting, prostrate sought protection,