And his malmesy nose,
Sing hey ding, ding a ding ding.
We scarcely believe the ascription to be correct, and that “Old Symon the King” originally referred to Simon Wadloe, who kept the “Devil and St. Dunstan” Tavern, whereat Ben Jonson and his comrades held their meetings as The Apollo Club; for which the Leges Conviviales were written. Seeing that Wadloe died in 1626, or ’27, and there being a clear trace of “Old Simon the King” in 1575, in Laneham’s Kenilworth Letter (Reprinted for Ballad Society, 1871, p. cxxxi.), the song appears of too early a date to suit the theory. Tant pis pour les faits. But consult Chappell’s Pop. Mus., 263-5, 776-7.
[Same p. 154.] Wilt thou be fatt? &c.
In 1865 (see his Bibliog. Account, i. 25), J. P. Collier drew attention to the mention of Falstaff’s name in this Catch; also to the other Shakesperiana, viz., the complete song of “Jog on, jog on the footpath way,” ([p. 156]), and the burden of “Three merry boys,” to “The Wise-men were but Seven” (M. D. C., p. 232), which is connected with Sir Toby Belch’s joviality in Twelfth Night, Act ii. 3.
[Page 155.] Of all the birds that ever I see.
With the music, in Chappell’s Pop. Mus. O. T., p. 75. This favourite of our own day dates back so early, at least, as 1609, when it appeared in (Thomas Ravenscroft’s?) Deuteromelia; or, the Second Part of Musick’s Melodie, &c., p. 7. We therein find (what has dropped out, to the damage of our Antidote version), as the final couplet:—
Sinamont and ginger, nutmegs and cloves,
And that gave me my jolly red nose.