One I usually dig out around Halloween, about two Irishmen whose contribution to medical science is very much under-appreciated
I find it sings far better than most broadsides I have ever come across, probably due to the feller who gave it to me

BURKE AND HARE
William Burke it is my name I stand condemned alone.
I left my native Ireland In the county of Tyrone.
And o'er to Scotland I did sail, Employment for to find;
No thought of cruel murder Was then into my mind.

At Edinburgh trade was slack, No work there could I find;
And so I took the road again, To Glasgow was inclined;
But stopping at the West-port To find refreshment there,
0 cursed be the evil hour I met with William Hare!

With flattering words he greeted me And said good fortune smiled;
He treated me to food and drink And I was soon beguiled;
He said:"There's riches to be had, And fortune's to be made,
For atomists have need of us. So join me in that trade.

Hare he kept a lodging-house Therein a man had died,
His death went unreported And of burial was denied
We put the dead man in a cart And through the streets did ride.
And Robert Knox,the atomist, The dead man he did buy.

To rob the new dug graves by night It was not our intent;
To be taken by the nightwatch Or by spies was not our bent.
The plan belonged to William Hare And so the plot was laid,
He said that "murder's safer Than the resurrection trade."

Two women they were in the plot The wife of William Hare,
The other called McDougal, And travellers they did sanre;
They lured them to the lodging house And when they'd drunken deep,
Hare and me, we smothered them As they lay fast asleep.

At first in fear and dread I was But later grew more bold,
In nine short months we killed fifteen And then their bodies sold.
The doctors did not question us, But quickly paid our fee,
The price they paid,it prospered us, Both William Hare and me.

But soon our crimes they were found out In jail we were confined,
And cruel guilt it tore my heart And much despairs my mind;
And Hare, who first ensnared me And led me far astray
Has turned King’s evidence on me And sworn my life away

Daniel Defoe wrote about the 'goodnight songs' in one of his 'journey' journals (I've never been able to remember which one)
He claimed they got their name because of the practice of the 'audiences' at public hangings shouting out "Goodnight" in unison as the noose tightened around the condemned's neck
He described how the hack would visit Newgate shortly before an execution took place touting for business, would write out his/her "last true confession", make a song of it to be sold 'on the big day' and give some of the provceeds to a family member (wife maybe)
After ploughing through all the broadside collections I could lay my hands on, I find the vast majority unsingable doggerel, 'veritable dunghill's' as the man said - Child new his stuff

Regarding the above song; we once visited a relative of Pat's in Edinburgh, a cousin who is/was an armature local historian
She took us to a curtch outside te ciry which still had it's 'mort-safe' - a huge iron box laid over a newly-dug grave to stop it from being raided for corpses
Travellets like The Stewarts had dozens of stories about 'The Burkers' which they told to children to keep thim in line
Jim Carroll