After which, the theatre we tried;
Entrance was denied, we were put outside,
Police then came to put matters right,
When Johnson lost his temper and pulled off his coat to fight:—Chorus.
For half an hour we had what anyone might call a friendly scrap—a playful scrap,
And language sweet and beautiful ascended to the skies;
We’d broken noses, ditto hats and numerous black eyes;
To the station house we all were borne,
Ragged, bruised and torn, and the Judge next morn,
Scratched his head, on Johnson fixed his gaze,