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A Tankard of Ale |
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celebrate the fact of its consumption. Shamefacedness or defence are entirely lacking in them. The only thing to be uttered is a pcean of praise for a material blessing joyfully accepted.
" 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."
So wrote Bishop Still in the sixteenth century. But to-day we would draw long faces at such reprehensible remarks and talk solemnly about less beer and more boots —which is about as sensible as demanding less sun and more sandwiches ! Perfect social reform casteth out conviviality.
I wonder what our advocates of intemperate teetotalism would say to this rollicking chorus :
" I cannot go home, nor I will not go home— It's long of the oyle of Barley ; I'll tarry all night for my delight And go home in the morning early."
Such a note of vulgar human fellowship would be certain to scorch Mr. Cadbury's ears, could they hear it. Indeed, I often wonder whether it is not the fellowship that he objects to even more than its companion drink. Did he but walk down Fleet Street arm-in-arm with Mr. Gardiner and Dr. Clifford, the three of them bawling out :
"Tea! Tea! Glorious Tea ! "
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