I cannot eat but little meat, my stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I could drink with him that weareth an hood.
Nor frost nor snow nor wind, I trow, can hurt me if it would;
I am so wrapp'd with in and lapp'd with jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare, both hand and foot go cold;
But belly God send thee good ale enough, whether it be new or old.
Good ale, and strong, mak'th me among full jocund and full light,
That oft I sleep and take no keep from morning until night.
Then start I up and flee to the cup, the right way on I hold;
My thirst to staunch I fill my paunch with jolly good ale and old.
I care right naught, I take no thought for clothes to keep me warm:
Have I good drink, I surely think nothing can do me harm.
For truly then I fear no man though he be ne'er so bold,
When I am armed and throughly warmed with jolly good ale and old.
They that do drink till they nod and wink, even as good fellows should
do,
They shall not miss to have the bliss that good ale brought them to,
And all poor souls that scour black bowls and them have lustily trolled,
God save the lives of them and their wives, whether they be young or
old.