[3] At this time, the area around Rowley Regis village, which was sited on a ridge crossing the Black Country, was largely rural, although the hand-made nail trade was well established in the district.

According to the introduction to his first published collection, Woodhouse developed an "invincible inclination to reading and an insatiable thirst after knowledge" at the age of eighteen, from when he "expended all his little perquisites in the purchase of magazines".

[6] He started writing poetry, to the alarm of his father who considered it a distraction from his work,[7] and made the acquaintance of the poet William Shenstone, who lived nearby at the Leasowes in Halesowen.

[1] Shenstone had carried out extensive landscape gardening at his estate, creating a ferme ornée, to which he allowed free access.

[13][14] In 1763, a poem by Woodhouse about the spring season was included in a series of volumes entitled The Poetical Calendar although later the poet complained that this had been done without his knowledge and that the text was imperfect.

[11] In his first published collection, Woodhouse also acknowledged the financial assistance of Lord Dudley and Ward, who put the poet in possession of a free school worth £10 per annum.

"[19] As the "shoe-maker poet", Woodhouse achieved some measure of fame and came to the notice of Samuel Johnson, meeting the writer in 1765 at the invitation of Hester Thrale.

[20][21] According to the later recollections of Mrs Thrale, Johnson advised the poet to: "give nights and days, sir, to the study of Addison, if you mean either to be a good writer, or, what is more worth, an honest man.

Whilst walking through Shenstone's former property with his brother and a friend, Woodhouse was beaten by Turnpenny's servants, the new owner not recognising the poet.

The volume was dedicated to Lord George Lyttelton, to whom two of the new poems in the collection were addressed,[16] whilst Elizabeth Montagu helped arrange the subscription necessary to achieve publication.

[3] In the introduction to he volume, Woodhouse informed his readers that: "by the great and unexpected generosity of my Patrons, I am now enabled to apply my time chiefly to my little school".

[14] Letters from Elizabeth Montagu reveal that Woodhouse was an effective bailiff, working long hours during the harvest and supervising planting, ditching, and ploughing.

[8] A final breach with Elizabeth Montagu occurred in 1788 prompted by religious and political differences and Woodhouse left her service for good.

The volume included an "Address to the Public" in which he laments his difficult financial position "with the addition of an unhealthy wife, by whom I have had twenty-seven children".

[28] The book, which included a poem in defence of King George III, was sold from premises at 10 Lower Brook Street, London.

[37] The poem includes a very critical portrayal of Woodhouse's former patron, Elizabeth Montagu, which is thought be the reason for it not being published in full during his lifetime.

[11][14] A description of Woodhouse in his final years at his bookshop was given in an edition of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine from 1829:[38] tall, erect, venerable, almost patriarchal, in his appearance — in his black-velvet cap, from beneath which his grey locks descended upon his forehead, and on each side of his still fine face, — his long, black, loose gown, — and his benignant air — issuing from his little parlour with a stately step, as the tingling bell which hung over the shop door gave notice of a customer, when it was opened.

Woodhouse died in 1820, his death brought about by a collision with a carriage whilst crossing the road,[3] and was buried near Marble Arch in London at the cemetery of St George's Chapel.

Woodhouse's first collection also included two other poems: Benevolence, an Ode which was inscribed to some "gentlemen and ladies in London" who had made a small subscription for him, and Spring.

[46] The opening lines recall the Rowley Hills of Woodhouse's early days:[47] High, on those Hills, whose scarce-recorded Name, Has weakly whisper'd from the trump of Fame; Just to announce, distinct, the simple sound, O'er other swarming heights, and hamlets, round— Unless like Name of Bristol's ancient Bard, Among the tuneful tribes may meet regard, Which hapless Chatterton's prolific lays Wreath'd round his brows with never-fading bays; Or poor Crispinus', oaten pipe, alone, Might serve to raise the sound one semitone.

There 'mid the Cots that look o'er southern lands, Near the blest spot where Heav'n's fair temple stands, Once dwelt an humble, but an honest, Pair, Of manners, rustic, but of morals rare!