_Old Hewson the Cobbler_ (Vol. ii., p. 442.).--I remember that there was a
low song sung at some wine parties in Oxford about fifteen years ago, which
began with the words, "My name is old Hewson," &c. I do not remember the
words, but they were gross: the chief _fun_ seemed to consist in the
chorus,--a sort of _burring_ noise being made with the lips, while the
doubled fists were rubbed and thumped upon the thigh, as if the cobbler's
lapstone had been there.
Was Hewson, the Parliamentarian colonel, a cobbler?