| |
| BACK and side go bare, go bare, | |
| Both hand and foot go cold; | |
| But, belly, God send thee good ale enough | |
| Whether it be new or old. | |
| |
| But if 1 that I may have truly | 5 |
| Good ale my belly full, | |
| I shall look like one, by sweet Saint John, | |
| Were shorn against the wool. | |
| Though I go bare, take ye no care, | |
| I am nothing a-cold; | 10 |
| I stuff my skin so full within | |
| Of jolly good ale and old. | |
| |
| I cannot eat but little meat, | |
| My stomach is not good; | |
| But sure I think that I could drink | 15 |
| With him that weareth an hood. | |
| Drink is my life; although my wife | |
| Some time do chide and scold, | |
| Yet spare I not to ply the pot | |
| Of jolly good ale and old. | 20 |
| |
| I love no roast but a brown toast, | |
| Or a crab in the fire; | |
| A little bread shall do me stead, | |
| Much bread I never desire. | |
| Nor frost, nor snow, nor wind, I trow, | 25 |
| Can hurt me if it wolde; | |
| I am so wrapped within, and lapped | |
| With jolly good ale and old. | |
| |
| I care right nought, I take no thought | |
| For clothes to keep me warm; | 30 |
| Have I good drink, I surely think | |
| Nothing can do me harm. | |
| For truly than I fear no man, | |
| Be he never so bold, | |
| When I am armed and throughly warmed | 35 |
| With jolly good ale and old. | |
| |
| But now and than I curse and ban, | |
| They make their ale so small! | |
| God give them care, and evil to fare! | |
| They strye 2 the malt and all. | 40 |
| Such peevish pew, 3 I tell you true, | |
| Not for a crown of gold | |
| There cometh one sip within my lip, | |
| Whether it be new or old. | |
| |
| Good ale and strong maketh me among | 45 |
| Full jocund and full light, | |
| That oft I sleep, and take no keep | |
| From morning until night. | |
| Then start I up and flee to the cup, | |
| The right way on I hold; | 50 |
| My thirst to stanch I fill my paunch | |
| With jolly good ale and old. | |
| |
| And Kit, my wife, that as her life | |
| Loveth well good ale to seek, | |
| Full oft drinketh she that ye may see | 55 |
| The tears run down her cheek. | |
| Then doth she troll to me the bowl | |
| As a good malt-worm should, | |
| And say, “Sweetheart, I take my part | |
| Of jolly good ale and old.” | 60 |
| |
| They that do drink till they nod and wink, | |
| Even as good fellows should do, | |
| They shall not miss to have the bliss | |
| That good ale hath brought them to. | |
| And all poor souls that scour black bowls, | 65 |
| And hath them lustily troll’d, | |
| God save the lives of them and their wives, | |
| Whether they be young or old! | |
| Back and side, etc. | |
