"Whatsoever ony man think, We come for nought but for good drink. For it may be seen where we have been." From the tavern be they all gone; This is the thought that gossips take; Or else they will groan and make them sick; How say you, women, is it not so? JOLLY GOOD ALE AND OLD. 2 Back and side, go bare, go bare! But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, But-if that I May have truly I shall look like one, Take you no care, I am nothing cold, I stuff my skin So full within Of jolly good ale and old. 1 This neat touch comes from the second version of the poem. 2 The date of this chant may be somewhere towards 1540. I cannot eat My stomach is not good; But sure I think That I could drink With him that wear'th an hood. Sometime do chide and scold : Yet spare I not To ply the pot Of jolly good ale and old. Back and side &c. 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, Can hurt me if it wold; I am so wrapped With jolly good ale and old. I care right nought, I take no thought For clothes to keep me warm : 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 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 strye1 the malt and all! Such peevish pew I tell you true 1 Destroy, ruin, spoil. Not for a crown of gold Whether it be new or old. Back and side &c. Good ale and strong Mak'th me among Full jocund and full light,' And take no keep, And flee to the cup; The right way on I hold With jolly good ale and old. And Kitt, my wife, Loveth well good ale to seek, Full oft drinketh she, That ye may see The tears run down her cheek. As a good malt-worm shold,— Of jolly good ale and old." 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, And them hath lustily trolled, God save the lives Of them and their wives, Whether they be young or old! Back and side &c. AS IT BEFELL ONE SATURDAY.1 As it befell one Saturday at noon, 1 heard one to another say, "John a' Bagilie hath lost his mate." At Eaton Water I wash my hands- "O Katty Whitworth, God be with thee! "There is none but you and I, sweetheart, I must do more than kiss you now! "Farewell, my love, my leave I take : Whom I love best I must forego! "If that thou wilt Scotland forsake, Bonny sweet wench, to go with thee." There was two men, they loved a lass: The other was an Englishman— The name of him I have quite forgot. As I went up Kelsall wood, And up that bank that was so stair,3 Where I was wont to see my dear. "There is sixteen in thy father's house: The young man walked home again, As time of night thereto moves: The fair maid called him back again, And gave to him a sweet pair of gloves. 1 This is a specimen of the compositions termed "Tom-a-Bedlams," common and popular towards the beginning of the seventeenth century. The fun of them consists in their perpetual incongruities or irrelevancies. 2 Probably a mis-writing for "trickling :' or the change may be intentional. 3 Steer, steep. "Thy father hath silver and gold enough, Silver and gold to maintain thee; But as for that I do not care, So that thou wilt my true love be." "When I was young and in my youth, "Upon your lips my leave I take, "My mother, Kate, hath sent for me, I weigh not of thy constancy When I am fled and gone away. "I weep, I wail, I wring my hands, For why, alas! I have lost my dear!" |