They tell whom it kills, but say not a word, How many a man liveth both sound and hale, Though he drink no beer any day in the year, By the radical humour of a pot of good ale. But to speak of killing them am I not willing; Too many (I wis) with their deaths prove this, O ale ab alendo, the liquor of life! That I had but a mouth as big as a whale! For mine is but little, to touch the least tittle That belongs to the praise of a pot of good ale. Thus (I trow) some virtues I have mark'd you out, But that after the pot, there cometh a shot, With that my friend said, "that blot will I bear, You have done very well, it is time to strike sail ; We'll have six pots more, though I die on the score, To make all this good of a pot of good ale." 0. [Introduced into England about 1523, says Baker in his Chronicle: but Fuller, in his Worthies, mentions a petition to Parliament in the reign of Henry VI. against that wicked weed called hops.'] SONG L. ONAL E.* WHILST Some in epic strains delight, t As taste or whim prevail; Some folks of cyder make a rout, But wine, that's richer, better still, Rum, brandy, gin with choicest smack, Oh! whether thee I closely hug Or in the tankard hail; * This ballad is printed as Mr. Gay's, in some editions of his works: i. e. the spurious ones published by Mr. Bell, bookseller in the Strand. + So the copies: quære indite? In barrel or in bottle pent, But chief, when to the cheerful glass From vessel pure thy streamlets pass, Then most thy charms prevail; Then, then I'll bet, and take the odds, That nectar, drink of heathen gods, Was poor, compar'd to ale, Give me a bumper, fill it up : Inspir'd by thee the warrior fights, And pens the pleasing tale ; High church and low oft raise a strife, Yet whig and tory, opposite In praise of nappy ale. O blest potation! still by thee, Do health and mirth prevail; Ev'n while these stanzas I indite, SONG LI.* BACKE and side go bare, go bare, Whether it be newe or olde. I cannot eat but lytle meate, My stomacke is not good; But sure I thinke that I can drynke With him that weares a hood. * From A ryght pithy, pleasant and merie comedie; intytuled Gammer Gurton's Nedle.' London, 1575.-This very humorous ancient drama is preserved, amongst divers similar curiosities, in the excellent collection of old plays, published by Mr. Dodsley. [Also in vol. i. of the Origin of the English Drama by the Rev. T. Hawkins, who terms it the first regular comedy in our language, being (according to Mr. Oldys' manuscript tables,) printed in 1551.] Thoughe I go bare, take ye no care, I am nothinge a colde; I stuff my skyn so full within, But, belly, God send thee good ale inoughe, I love no rost, but a nut-browne toste, A little breade shall do me stead, No frost nor snow, nor winde I trowe, Can hurte mee if I wolde I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt, Of joly good ale and olde. Backe and syde go bare, &c. And Tyb my wyfe, that as her lyfe, Of this joly good ale and olde. Backe and syde go bare, &c. Now let them drynke, tyll they nod and winke, Even as good felowes shoulde doe : • Crab-apple. |