WILLIAM STEVENSON

But, belly, God send thee good ale enough. Whether it be new or old.

I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,

And a crab laid in the fire ; A little bread shall do me stead ;

Much bread I not desire. No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,

Can hurt me if I wold ; I am so wrapp'd and thoroughly lapp'd

Of jolly good ale and old.

Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.

And Tib, my wife, that as her life

Loveth well good ale to seek, Full oft drinks she till ye may see

The tears run down her cheek : Then doth she trowl to me the bowl

Even as a maltworm should, And saith, Sweetheart, I took my part

Of this jolly good ale and old.'

Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.

Now let them drink till they nod and wink,

Even as good fellows should do ; They shall not miss to have the bliss

Good ale doth bring men to ; And all poor souls that have scour' d bowls

Or have them lustily troll'd, God save the lives of them and their wives, Whether they be young or old.

Back and side go bare, go bare; Both foot and hand go cold; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, Whether it be new or old.

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