The Bodleian Library has several copies of this broadside, for example, Johnson Ballads 1216. Sometimes the title is simply "Leather Breeches."


HODGE AND HIS LEATHER BREECHES.
Tune—Lunnun is the Devil.

Although a simple clown, my life passed sweet as honey,
Till feyther died in town, and left me all his money:
Some twenty pounds or more, with harrows, ploughs, and ditches;
With grunters half a score, and a pair o' leather breeches.
    Rumpty, bumpty, &c.

As pleased I were as fun, and dressed myself up natty.
Thinks I, the girls each one must think I very pratty.
Wi' fortin [=fortune] quite content, grief gave my heart no twitches;
So to church on Sunday went, to sport my leather breeches!
    Rumpty, bumpty, &c.

But coming home, oh! dear, some boys did jeer and flout me.
They filled my mind with fear, as they all flocked about me.
They 'gainst me did conspire, soused me in ponds and ditches,
And soon wi' mud and mire they daubed my leather breeches.
    Rumpty, bumpty, &c.

I next did go to woo a damsel young and dapper,
But she at me looked blue, and ding-dong went her clapper.
Says she, "I hates your plan, my heart agin you retches,
'Cause I can't bear a man wot wears them leather breeches."
    Rumpty, bumpty, &c.

To Lunnun I set off, my spirits just to rally,
But each one did me scoff, in court, in street, and alley.
My woes came not by halves; I got insulting speeches.
One fellow bawled out "Calves!" another, "Twig his breeches."
    Rumpty, bumpty, &c.

A lass I met one night, as I for fun was dodging.
I thought myself all right, and with her took a lodging.
Next morn how I did curse the gal, and all sic wretches—
When I found she'd boned my purse, my watch, an' leather breeches!
    Rumpty, bumpty, &c.

I left the house quite hurt; it rained and blew together.
Exposed all in my shirt, I were to wind and weather.
The women from me fled. I did not rue my riches,
But i'd ha' given my head to have my leather breeches!
    Rumpty, bumpty, &c.

A policeman passing by, on duty never dosing,
And off to quod hiked I, my person for exposing.
The justice spoke his will, and with upbraiding speeches,
He sent me to the mill, all through my leather breeches.
    Rumpty, bumpty, &c.

But now once more I'm free, and by the coach to-morrow,
From Lunnun I will flee, and try to drown my sorrow.
Once more to plough I'll go. A fig for pride and riches!
No more I'll be a beau, nor sport my leather breeches.
    Rumpty, bumpty, &c.