Which sells good ale, nappy and stale, And always thus sings she,

My ale was tunn'd when I was young, And a little above my knee.

Her ale is lively, strong and stout,
If you please but to taste;

It is well brew'd you need not fear,
But I pray you make no waste;
It is lovely brown, the best in town,
And always thus sings she,

My ale was tunn'd when I was young,
And a little above my knee.

The gayest lady with her fan,
Doth love such nappy ale,
Both city maids and country girls

That carry the milking pail:

Will take a touch and not think much

To sing so merrily,

My ale was tunn'd when I was young,

And a little above my knee.

Both lord and esquire hath a desire

Unto it night and day,

For a quart or two be it old or new,

And for it then will pay :

With pipe in hand they may her command

To sing most merrily,

My ale was tunn'd when I was young,

And a little above my knee.

You'r welcome all brave gentlemen,
If you please to come in,

To take a cup I do intend,
And a health for to begin :
To all the merry jovial blades,

That will sing for company,

My ale was tunn'd when I was yoùng,
And a little above my knee.

Here's a health to all brave Englishmen, That love this cup of ale;

Let

every man fill up his can,

And see that none do fail :

'Tis very good to nourish the blood,
And make you sing with me,
My ale was tunn'd when I was young,
And a little above my knee.

SECOND PART.

The bonny Scot will lay a plot
To get a handsome touch

Of this my ale, so good and stale,
So will the cunning Dutch:

They will take a part with all their heart,
To sing this tune with me,

My ale was tunn'd when I was young,
And a little above my knee.

It will make the Irish cry A hone!
If they but take their fill,

And put them all quite out of tune,

Let them use their chiefest skill, So strong and stout it will hold out In any company,

For my ale was tunn'd when I was young, And a little above my knee.

The Welchman on St. David's day

Will cry, cots plutter a nail, Hur will hur ferry quite away,

From off that

nappy ale :

It makes hur foes with hur red nose,

Hur seldom can agree,

But my

ale was tunn'd when I was young,

And a little above my knee.

The Spaniard stout will have about,
'Cause he hath store of gold,
Till at the last, he is laid fast,
My ale doth him so hold :
His poignard strong is laid along,
Yet he is good company,

For

my ale was tunn'd when I was young, And a little above my knee.

There's never a tradesman in England,

That can my ale deny,

The weaver, tailor and glover

Delight it for to buy,

Small money they do take away,

If that they drink with me,

For

my ale was tunn'd when I was young, And a little above my knee.

There is smug the honest blacksmith,
He seldom can pass by,
Because a spark lies in his throat

Which makes him very dry:

But my old ale tells him his tale,

So finely we agree,

For my ale was tunn'd when I was young, And a little above my knee.

The brewer, baker and butcher,

As well as all the rest,

Both night and day will watch where they
May find ale of the best :

And the gentle craft will come full oft,
To drink a cup with me,

For

my

ale was tunn'd when I was young,

And a little above my knee.

So to conclude good fellows all,
I bid you all adieu,

If that you love a cup of ale,

Take rather old than new,
For if you come where I do dwell,

And chance to drink with me,
My ale was tunn'd when I was young,
And a little above my knee.