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There was a Poor Smith |
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Tobacco likewise we must not forget, Men will call for it when malt's above wheat. When once it is known, then o'er hill and dale, Men will come flocking to taste of our ale.
They sent for a wench, her name it was Besse, And her they hired to welcome their guesse. They took in good Ale, and many things mo, The Smith had got him two strings to his bow : Good fellows came in, and gan for to rore, The Smith he was never so troubled before, But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl. These things must be if we sell Ale.
The Smith went to his work every day, But still one or other would call him away, For now he had got him the name of an Host, It cost him many a pot and a Toste. Beside much precious time he now lost, And thus the poor Smith was every day crost, But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl, These things must be if we sell Ale.
Men run on the score, and little they paid, Which made the poor Smith be greatly dismaied, And bonny Besse though she were not slack To welcome her guesse, yet things went to wrack; For she would exchange a pot for a kisse, Which any fellow should seldom times misse, But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl, These things must be if we sell Ale.
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