A Tankard Of Ale - online songbook

An Anthology Of 120 Drinking Song Lyrics

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Harvest Songs
The Master's Health
Here's a health unto our Master, the founder of the feast, We wish with all our hearts, sirs, his soul in heaven may
rest; That all his works may prosper, whatever he takes in hand, For we all his servants, and all at his command. Then drink, boys, drink ! and see you do not spill, For if you do you shall drink two, It is our master's will.
The Mistress's Health
This is our mistress's health, merrily singing, Bonfires in every town, and the bells ringing; Cannons are roaring, bullets are flying, Spaniards away they ran for fear of dying.
1 From Sawyer's " Sussex Songs and Music." There is a charming description of the old Sussex manner of singing in Thomas Geering's " Our Parish." " Master Simmond's prepara­tion never varied. First he had to twist himself away from the table, next to pull with both his hands his somewhat long and new round frock well above his knees, throw the left leg over the right, stroke his hair straight as he could down over the forehead, put his pipe between the middle finger of the left hand, give vent to two or three ahems and haws to clear, as he said, the passage of the wine-pipe, and off he would go, his strong lungs pulling him through all difficulties of rhyme or rhythm. His memory never failed him, and he was insistent upon the recurring chorus; his eyes were shut, and he never looked once for light. He was there in his glory ; his fight shone full within him."
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