Antiquarian Hall, ALIAS Will. Will-be-so, of Lynn,
A goose-herd in the fen-lands; next, he
Be-doctor’d Norfolk cows; much vext, he
Turn’d bookseller, and poetaster,
And was a tolerable master
Of title-pages, but his rhymes
Were shocking, at the best of times.
However, he was very honest,
And now, poor fellow, he is—“non est.”
*
For the Table Book.
William Hall, or as he used to style himself, “Antiquarian Hall,” “Will. Will-be-so,” and “Low-Fen-Bill-Hall,” or, as he was more generally termed by the public, “Old Hall,” died at Lynn, in Norfolk, on the 24th of January, 1825. From some curious autobiographical sketches in rhyme, published by himself, in the decline of life, it appears that he was born on June 1, O.S. 1748, at Willow Booth, a small island in the fens of Lincolnshire, near Heckington Ease, in the parish of South Kyme.
“Kyme, God knows.
Where no corn grows,
Nothing but a little hay;
And the water comes,
And takes it all away.”
His ancestors on the father’s side were all “fen slodgers,” having lived there for many generations; his mother was
————“a half Yorkshire
The other half was Heckington,
Vulgar a place as and one.”
When about four years old, he narrowly escaped drowning; for, in his own words, he
————“overstretching took a slip,
And popp’d beneath a merchant’s ship;[42]
No soul at hand but me and mother;
Nor could I call for one or other.”