From an article "Wine and Walnuts, or After Dinner Chit-Chat, by a Cockney Grey Beard. Chapter V. Old Home" in The London Literary Gazette and Journal of Belles Lettres, Arts, Sciences, etc. (London: Literary Gazette, No. 194, Oct. 7, 1820), page 665:

And I verily could prick the air to many an ancient song, recorded by that intelligent chronicler of ancient lore, which the artless minstrelsy of feasts and harvest-homes had chanted to her tuneful ear. Among the most simple, well do I recollect—

On yonder hill there sits a hare,
And she was overgrown with care,
Because her form was grown so bare;
Soho!

And there was run sir, run sir, run,
And there was turn sir, turn sir, turn,
And o'er the bogs, she lur'd the dogs,
Soho!