CHRIST'S HOSPITAL—OLD SONGS ONCE POPULAR THERE
Amongst the numerous correspondents and readers of your very interesting little work, there may yet be living some who were scholars in the above institution during the last ten or fifteen years of the last century, coevals, or nearly so, with Richards, afterwards of Oriel College, author of a prize poem, Aboriginal Britons, and one of the Bampton Lecturers; Middleton, afterwards Bishop of Calcutta; Trollope, afterwards Master of the Grammar School; Barnes, afterwards connected with the Times; Stevens, Scott (poor Scott!), Coleridge, Lamb, Allen, White, Leigh Hunt, the two brothers Le G. Favell, Thompson, Franklin, &c., pupils of old James Boyer, of flogging celebrity.
If so, can any of them furnish me with the words of an old song, then current in the school, relating to the execution of the Earl of Derwentwater in the rebellion of 1715, of which the four following lines are all that I remember:
"There's fifty pounds in my right pocket,
To be given to the poor;
There's fifty pounds in my left pocket,
To be given from door to door."
Of another song, equally popular, less pathetic, but of more spirit-stirring character, can any one supply the remainder?
"As our king lay musing on his bed,