I can not eate but lytle meate, My stomache is not goode, But, sure, I thinke, that I can drynk With him that wears a hood.[2] Thoughe I go bare, take ye no care, I am nothynge a colde; I stuffe my skyn so full within Of jolly good ale, and olde.
Back and syde go bare, go bare, &c., &c.
[3]I love no rost, but a nut-brown toste, And a crab layde in the fyre; A lytle bread shall do me stead, Much bread I not desyre. {12}
No froste nor snow, no winde, I trow, Can hurte mee if I wolde, I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt, Of joly good ale and olde.
Back and syde go bare, go bare, &c., &c.
And Tyb, my wife, that as her lyfe Loveth well good ale to seeke, Full ofte drinkes shee, tyll ye may see, The teares run down her cheekes; Then doth she trowle to mee the bowle[4] Even as a mault worme shuld And sayth, sweet hart, I tooke my part Of this joly good ale, and olde.
Back and syde go bare, go bare, &c., &c.
Now let them drynke, tyll they nod and winke, Even as good fellowes shoulde doe, They shall not misse to have the blisse Good ale doth bringe men to: And all poor soules, that have scoured boules, Or have them lustely trolde, God save the lyves of them and their wyves, Whether they be yonge or olde.
Back and syde go bare, go bare, &c., &c.
[2] Alluding to the drunkenness of the clergy.