The Ballad of Ned Ludd

It is now January, 1812. Johnson, having ridden the coach from London to Nottingham finds a pleasant public house, and orders a pint, along with his meal of bread and cheese. The room is full of tradesmen; mainly weavers, combers, and croppers. They look healthy, but its hard to miss the tension when this stranger from the capital walks in the room.

In the dim oil lamp light a minstrel begins a new song. And Johnson can't help but note a bit of defiance in his voice.

Old Ned Ludd was a feebleminded lad,
and his father worked the loom
in the Shire of Nottingham.

And it made him sad,
one dream he only had,
one day his son like he,
a master weaver'd be.

And so Ned Ludd
would stand where he could see
the complex craftsmanship
of his father's tapestry.

But though Ned watched
his father all the day
he could not tie his shoe,
he was clumsier than you.

(I'm afraid its true)

When Ned was twelve
Mr Riggles showed the men
a marvelous device,
a loom beyond their ken.

And he swore it'd change
the weaving trade for good
it did the work of three
and it never paused for tea.

And it clattered and it clacked,
and it whirred and turned and hacked.

Just then Ned Ludd
came 'a running in the room
he saw that power loom
and he sensed impending doom,
and we don't know why
but Ned Ludd went awry,
he screamed and had a fit
and he crashed right into it.

And it shuddered and it fell.
and the Weaver's liked it well.
Luddites! Speak your minds!
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