The barber's black patch.
Lettering continues: Good people give ear to story; to what I am going to lay down/ I'll tell you of a young lady, that lived in fair London town, I'll study it was all in pride she wore a great deal of false hair, (and declare. it was a fine shelter indeed for vermin I vow/ Her head it was like a May-pole, her bonnet above a yard high/ Which made all the people to stare when this Lady they us'd to pass by, Her braid it hung down to her waist, with a dozen of curls on each side, this lady did cut such a figure, the devil cant touch her for pride/ No rest could she take night or day, she was so disturb'd in her pate. She pomatum and power so strong, increasing the vermin so great/ She sent a barber with speed to open her wig you shall know, a monster jump'd out of her head, and bit off the poor barber's nose,/ The barber he flew in a rage the truth I do mean to declare, if I had known of this monster, the devil should have comb'd out your hair/ The lady was sorely affrighted my wig and false curl I will burn, the barber went home in a hurry without his nose forced to return,/ Come all you young barbers take warning, I'd have you be ruled by me, by dressing of ladies fat wigs, my nose I have lost you may see, surely do cut a sad figure you may know the reason of that, but instead off a nose on my face I am forced to wear a black patch.
