I’m little Jack Russell, a man of great bustle,
I’m full of vexation, grief, sorrow, and care,
I have got in disgrace, and am now out of place;
But I never broke windows round Bel-ge-rave Square.
In great London City for me they’ve no pity;
And Moon the Lord Mayor to my face told me plain,
All the freemen would scout me, and old women rout me,
If ever I went to the City again.
I’m the son of old Bedford, I’m going to Deptford
To look for employment, and find out a friend,