When they had to pig in Bow Street cell,
What a change for them he-she ladies.
When first before the magistrate,
Oh, what a crowd did them await,
It was a lark and no mistake,
To look at them he-she ladies.
Lor! how the people did go on,
With, I say I’ll have your fine chignon,
Another cried out, Stella dear,
Pull off those togs, and breeches wear.