Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, &c.
I love no roast, but a nut-brown toast,
And a crab laid in the fire:
A little bread shall do me stead,
Much bread I not desire.
No frost nor snow, no wind I trow,
Can hurt me if I wolde,
I am so wrapt and thoroughly lapt
In jolly good ale and old.