THERE was a Jovial Tinker,
Which was a good Ale drinker;
He never was a Shrinker,
Believe me this is true;
And he came from the wild of Kent,
When all his Money was gone and spent,
Which made him look like a Jack-a-Lent,
And Joan’s Ale is new,
And Joan’s Ale is new Boys,
And Joan’s Ale is new.
The Tinker he did settle,
Most like a Man of Mettle,
And vow’d to pawn his Kettle,
Now mark what did ensue;
His Neighbours they flock’d in apace,
To see Tom Tinker’s comely Face,
Where they drank soundly for a space,
Whilst Joan’s Ale, &c.
The Cobler and the Broom Man,
Came next into the Room, Man,
And said they would drink for boon Man,
Let each one take his due;
But when good Liquor they had found,
They cast their Caps upon the Ground,
And so the Tinker he drank round,
Whilst Joan’s Ale, &c.
The Rag-Man being weary,
With the Burden he did carry,
He swore he would be merry,
And spend a Shilling or two;
And he told his Hostess to her Face,
The Chimney-corner was his Place,
And he began to drink apace,
And Joan’s Ale, &c.
The Pedlar he drew nigher,
For it was his desire,
To throw the Rags i’th’ Fire,
And burn the bundle blue;
So whilst they drank whole Flashes,
And threw about the Glasses,
The Rags were burnt to Ashes,
And Joan’s Ale, &c.
The Second PART.
AND then came in a Hatter,
To see what was the matter,
He scorn’d to drink cold Water,
Amongst that Jovial Crew;
And like a Man of Courage stout,
He took the Quart-Pot by the Snout,
And never left till all was out,
O Joan’s Ale, &c.
The Taylor being nimble,
With Bodkin, Shears and Thimble,
He did no whit dissemble,
I think his name was True;
He said that he was like to choak,
And he call’d so fast for Lap and Smoak,
Until he had pawn’d the Vinegar Cloak,
For Joan’s Ale, &c.
Then came a pitiful Porter,
Which often did resort there,
Quoth he, I’ll shew some Sport here,
Amongst the Jovial Crew;
The Porter he had very bad luck,
Before that it was ten a Clock,
The Fool got Drunk, and lost his Frock,
For Joan’s Ale, &c.
The bonny brave Shoe-maker,
A brave Tobacco taker,
He scorn’d to be a Quaker,
I think his Name was Hugh;
He call’d for Liquor in so fast,
Till he forgot his Awl and Last,
And up the Reckoning he did cast,
Whilst Joan’s Ale, &c.
And then came in the Weaver,
You never saw a braver,
With a Silk Man and a Glover,
Tom Tinker for to view;
And so to welcom him to Town,
They every Man spent half a Crown,
And so the Drink went merrily down,
For Joan’s Ale, &c.
Then came a Drunken Dutchman,
And he would have a touch, Man,
But he soon took too much, Man,
Which made them after rue;
He drank so long as I suppose,
’Till greasie Drops fell from his Nose,
And like a Beast befoul’d his Hose,
Whilst Joan’s Ale, &c.
A Welchman he came next, Sir,
With Joy and Sorrow Mixt, Sir,
Who being partly vex’d, Sir,
He out his Dagger drew;
Cuts-plutter-a-nails, quoth Taffy then,
A Welchman is a Shentleman,
Come Hostess fill’s the other Cann,
For Joan’s Ale, &c.
Thus like to Men of Courage stout,
Couragiously they drank about,
Till such time all the Ale was out,
As I may tell to you;
And when the Business was done,
They every man departed home,
And promis’d Joan again to come,
When she had Brew’d anew.
The Soldiers Fortune: Or, the taking
Mardyke.
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