In red, brown, yellow, green, or blue,
In short, what's called the private view,—
Amongst the guests—the deuce knows how
She got in there without a row—
There came a large and vulgar dame,
With arms deep red, and face the same,
Showing in temper not a Saint;
No one could guess for why she came,
Unless perchance to "scour the Paint."
From wall to wall she forced her way,