Got caught on the knob of a door by a chance,
And the knob being firm and the hoops being strong
The hoops had to stay where they didn’t belong.
The chaperon tripped and she tumbled, of course,
But was up in a trice, looking not so much worse
While the dancers all laughed but she kept on a-singing
And never looked back where the hoops were still clinging.
It was a mistake and the chaperon knew
That she should not have sung—she apologized, too—
There’s no one can tell what the young people think