HODGE IN LONDON.
John Hodge bid his dad and his mammy good bye,
And he set off for London his fortune to try,
For he, by a great many folks had been told,
That in London the streets were all paved with gold.
But, when he came there, to his great surprise,
Like a duck against thunder, he rolled up his eyes;
He search’d all around, but the devil a one,
Could poor Johnny find, but was paved with stone.
Now, in London, says John, I have heard people say,
That your pockets they’ll pick in the midst of the day!
I’ll take pretty good care that they shall not pick mine,
If they do, not a penny in them will they find.
One guinea I’ve got, and of that will take care,
I’ll put it in my mouth, for they can’t find it there,
So deceived was poor Johnny, this caution he took,
For a boy overheard every word that he spoke.
Now the boy being determined the guinea to gain,
Tumbled down on the stones, and then called out amain,
Stop that thief, said the boy, that clod hopping ninny,
He has knocked me down, and ran off with my guinea.
When the people they heard the poor boy so take on,
They scampered away, and soon overtook John,
What mean you? you rascal, they all then did cry,
You’ve robb’d the boy, though the theft you deny.
Then John he stood trembling and quaking for fear,
Crying, I ne’er touched the boy, nor his guinea, I swear,
But the boy coming up, still a lie he bawled out,
For you know that my guinea, you’ve got in your mouth.
Then they opened John’s mouth, where the guinea was found,
Which was presently shewn to the people all round,
’Twas given to the boy, who off with it did run,
And he laugh’d for to think how the Bumpkin he’d done.
Then John, he stood roaring, just like a great calf,
Whilst those standing by, did heartily laugh,
The people all thought that the boy he did rob,
Says John, from this time I’ll ne’er do such a job.
Although the Mutiny of the Fleet at the Nore does not properly belong to this century, yet it so nearly approached it (1797), and was of such national importance for the time being, that I venture to insert a ballad respecting it. The Navy was in a bad state. Many men had been impressed; they were badly paid and badly fed; and their punishment, for the slightest infraction of discipline, was fearful, 50 to 500 lashes, according to the temper of the captain, being no infrequent punishment for very venial offences. Early in the year the men sent in very respectful memorials to Lord Howe, telling him of their grievances. No notice was taken of it, and the men, probably ignorantly, committed a gross breach of discipline in combining together and opening communications with each other throughout the Fleet. They plotted to seize the ships and expel the officers; but it became known, and the Admiral gave orders to sail to sea. The men refused to do so, until their grievances had been looked into and redressed. This was promised and granted, but still the men were suspicious that faith would not be kept with them, and they set some of their officers ashore. Lord Howe, however, went to the Fleet at St. Helen’s, and showed them an Act of Parliament, granting their demands, and this pacified that portion of the Fleet.
But at the Nore there was open mutiny; they blockaded the entrance to the Thames, and fired on several ships entering or departing. This could not be endured, and the Admiralty removed the buoys. Provisions ran short, and some men-of-war were sent alongside, with orders to sink those ships that did not surrender. They gave in one by one, and the chief ringleader, Richard Parker (a man of some education), and several others were hanged; but they were long regarded as martyrs. Parker was buried in the churchyard of St. Mary Matfelon, Whitechapel.
