[Dick Darby, the Cobbler]

In both the first and second editions, this song was printed only in the notes to "My God, How the Money Rolls in."
For the first time, a more or less contemporary version of the song is at hand, and "Dick Darby" earns independent status:

[ A ]

I met the old lady one morning,
She said she would stand me a fight.
I knocked her on her ass in the millpond,
And then she bid me, "Good night."

Chorus:
With a twink, twink, twinkle I twaddled,
And a twink, twink, twinkle I twayed,
With a hoofer and poofer and leddle,
And whack fi diddle all day.

My old lady, she's humped and crumped,
Cross-eyed, bow-legged and black.
She sure beat the devil for scolding,
Her tongue goes clickety clack.

	ŽIP5,¯Sung by William Bigford of Portland, Michigan, to Paul  Gifford, between 1975 and 1982.  (See "Gilderoy," below.)

[ B ]

Though reports are few, apparently this song has had a long career in the United States.  This single stanza was learned in Sullivan County, Missouri, in 1911, where it was sung by a "small town braggart type, about 19."  

My father was hung as a horse thief.
My mother was burned as a witch.
I have seventeen sisters in the whorehouse,
And I'm a cock-sucking son of a bitch.

Contributed by an anonymous correspondent, this is number 380 in the Robert W. Gordon California collection in the Archive of American Folk Culture, Library of Congress.

The Brown Collection (II, pp. 456-57) prints under the title "Nobody's Coming to Marry Me," a song the informant called "My Father's Hedger and Ditcher," and dated to 1862.

My father's a hedger and ditcher;
My mother does nothing but spin;
And I am a handsome young lassie,
But money comes slowly in.

Chorus:
And it's oh, dear, what will become of me?
Oh, dear, what shall I do?
There's nobody coming to marry me,
There's nobody coming to woo.

Last night the dogs did bark.
I went to the window to see.
Someone was going a-hunting,
But no one was hunting for me.

The headnote by Henry Belden and Arthur Palmer Hudson cites a bibliographic entry in The Journal of American Folklore XXXIX (1926), p. 187 listing a number of garland and songbook prints, both English and American, of this song.  The note by the redoubtable G.L. Kittredge says the stage song was sung in New York City in 1811 by the mother of Edgar Allen Poe, a stage favorite at the time.
History Professor Emeritus Rowland Berthoff of Washington University, St. Louis, sent the following quatrain, learned at Officer Candidate School at Camp Davis, North Carolina, in 1943.  Though he indicated no tune, it is obviously inspired by the 'My God":

My father played football for Harvard'
My brother played golf for Purdue;
My sister played tennis for Vassar;
Now I'm playing hockey for you.

"Hockey," Berthoff explained, is a euphemism for shit.
To the literature of the sexually dysfunctional family add this (apparent) poem, from the Canfield collection gathered in 1926-1927.  It is seemingly inspired by, or owes something to the once-popular "Little Willie" rhymes.

Grandpa

Grandpa had a fresh young bride
And a whorehouse on the side.

Grandpa's always up to tricks.
Ain't he cute?  He's eighty-six.

Imitate him if you can.
Grandpa is a grand old man.

Grandpa's funny when he teases
Girls, and gives them diseases.

Grandpa's in his joking way,
Stole the baby's balls away.

Now our little sister's dead
Since he broke her maidenhead.

Grandpa always shouts with joy
When he kills a little boy.

Grandpa's dying.  Hear him cough?
Grandpa's bit his penis off.

Now he's done with all his tricks
At the age of eighty-six.