|
|
||
|
In Praise of Ale |
||
|
|
||
|
Ale is both Ceres, And good Neptune too, Ale's froth was the sea From which Venus grew.
Ale is immortal; And be there no stops, In bonny lads quaffing, Can live without hops.
Then come, my boon fellows, Let's drink it around ; It keeps us from the grave, Though it lays us on ground. |
||
|
|
||
|
IN PRAISE OF ALE1
When as the Chilehe Rocko blowes,
And winter tells a heavy tale ; When pyes, and dawes, and rookes, and crowes, Sit cursing of the frosts and snowes—
Then give me ale.
Ale in Saxon Rumken then,
Such as will make grim Malkin prate;
Rouseth up valour in all men,
Quickens the poet's wit and pen, Dispiseth fate.
1 From Merry Drolley. The music for this song is in Ritson's Collection of English Songs, 1783.
93 |
||
|
|
||