Twill make the shepherd to mistake
His sheep before a storm, "Twill make the poet to excell, This little barley-corn.
It will make young lads to call
Most freely for their liquor,
'Twill make a young lass take a fall
And rise again the quicker :
"Twill make a man that he
Shall sleep all night profoundly,
And make a man, what'er he be,
Go about his business roundly.
Thus the barley-corn hath power,
Even for to change our nature,
And makes a shrew, within an hour,
Prove a kind-hearted creature :
And therefore here, I say again,
Let no man take 't in scorn,
That I the virtues do proclaim
Of the little barley-corn.
"THE GOOD FELLOW'S FROLICK,
HERE is a crew of jovial blades
That lov'd the nut-brown ale:
They in an alehouse chanc'd to meet,
And told a merry tale : ·
A bonny Seaman was the first,
But newly come to town;
And swore that he his guts could burst,
With ale that was so brown.
See how the jolly Carman he
Doth the strong liquor prize,
He so long in the alehouse sat,
That he drank out his eyes :
And groping to get out of door,
(Sot like) he tumbled down,
And there he like a madman swore,
He lov'd the ale so brown.
The nimble Weaver he came in,
And swore he'd have a little;
To drink good ale it was no sin,
Though 't made him pawn his shuttle: Quoth he, I am a gentleman,
No lusty country clown,
But yet I love, with all my heart,
The ale that is so brown.
Then next the Blacksmith he came in,
And said 'twas mighty hot;
He sitting down did thus begin,
Fair maid, bring me a pot:
Let it be of the very best,
That none exceeds in town,
I tell you true, and do not jest,
I love the ale so brown.
The prick-louse Taylor he came in,
Whose tongue did run so nimble,
And said he would engage for drink
His bodkin and his thimble :
For though with long thin jaws I look,
I value not a crown,
So I can have my belly full
Of ale that is so brown.
The lusty Porter passing by
With basket on his back,
He said that he was grievous dry,
And needs would pawn his sack:
His angry wife he did not fear,
He valued not her frown;
So he had that he lov'd so dear,
I mean the ale so brown.
The next that came was one of them
Was of the gentle craft,
And when that he was wet within,
Most heartily he laugh'd, Crispin was ne'er so boon as he, Tho' some kin to a crown, And there he sat most merrily With ale that was so brown.
But at the last a Barber he
A mind had for to taste;
He called for a pint of drink
And said he was in haste :
The drink so pleas'd he tarried there,
Till he had spent a crown;
"Twas all the money he could spare
For ale that is so brown.
A Broom-man, as he passed by,
His morning draughts did lack,
Because that he no money had,
He pawn'd his shirt from his back:
And said that he without a shirt,
Would cry brooms up and down,
But yet, quoth he, I'll merry be
With ale that is so brown.
But when all these together met,
Oh what discourse was there,
"Twould make one's hair to stand an end,
To hear how they did swear!
One was a fool and puppy dog,
The other was a clown,
And there they sat, and swill'd their guts
With ale that was so brown.
The landlady they did abuse,
And call'd her nasty whore,
Quoth she, do you your reckoning pay
And get you out of door:
Of them she could no money get,
Which caused her to frown,
But loath they were to leave behind
The ale that was so brown.
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