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 forc’d her way,
Elbow’d Lord Durham—pok’d Lord Grey—
Stamp’d Stafford’s toes to make him move,