[Joan's ale is new?],
[?Medle]y, shewing the power, the strength, the operation, and the ver-
tue that remains in good Ale, which is accounted the Mother-drink of England.
All you that do this merry Ditty view,
Taste of Joan's Ale, for it is strong and new.
To a pleasant New Northern Tune.
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THere was a jovial Tinker,
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Which was a good Ale-drinker,
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He never was a shrinker,
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bellive me this is true,
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And he came from the wild of Kent.
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When all his money was gone and spent
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Which made him like a Jack-a-Lent,
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And Jones Ale is new,
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And Jones Ale is new Boys,
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And Jones Ale is new,
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The Tinker he did settle,
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Most like a man of mettle,
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And vow'd to pawn his Kettle,
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now mark what did ensue.
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His Neibors they flockt in apace,
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To see Tom Tinkers comely lace,
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Where they drank soundly for a space,
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Whilst Jones Ale, etc.
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The Cobler and the Broom-man,
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Came next in the room man,
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And said they would drink for boon man,
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let each one take his due:
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But when good liquor they found,
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They cast their caps upon the ground,
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And to the Tinker he drank round:
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Whilst Jones Ale, etc.
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The Rag man he being weary,
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With the bundle he did carry,
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He swore he would be merry,
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and spend a shilling or two:
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And he told his Hostis to her face,
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The Chimney-corner was his place,
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And he began drink apace,
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And Jones Ale, etc.
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The Pedler he drew nigher,
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For it was his desire,
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To throw the Rags i'th fire,
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and burn the bundle blew,
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So whilst they drank whole flashes,
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And threw about the Glasses,
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The rags were burnt to ashes,
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And Jones Ale, etc
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ANd then came in a Hatter,
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To see what was the matter,
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He scorned to drink cold water,
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amongst that Jovial crew,
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And like a man of courage stout,
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He took the quart-pot by the snout,
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And never left till all was out,
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O Jones Ale, etc.
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The Taylor being nimble,
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With Bodkin, Shears, and Thimble,
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He did no whit dessemble,
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I think this name was True,
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He said that he was like to choak,
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And call'd so fast for lap and smoak,
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Until he had pawn'd his Vinegar Cloak
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For Jones Ale, etc.
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Then came a pittiful Porter,
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Which often did resort there,
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Quoth he i'le shew some sport here,
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among'st this jovial crew,
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The Porter he had very bad luck,
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Before that it was ten a clock,
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The fool got drunk and lost his frock,
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For Jones, etc.
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The bony brave Shoo-maker.
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A brave Tobacoo-taker,
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He scorned to be a Quaker,
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I think his name was Hugh,
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He called for liquor in so fast,
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Till he forgot his Awl and Last.
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And up the reckoning he did cast,
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Whilst Jones, etc.
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And then came in the Weaver,
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You never saw a braver,
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With a Silk man and a Glover,
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Tom Tinker for to view,
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And so to welcome him to Town,
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They every man spent half a crown,
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And so the drink went merrily down,
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For Jones, etc.
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Then came a drunken Dutchman,
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And he would have a touch man,
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But he soon took too much man,
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which made them after rue;
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He drank so long as I suppose,
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Till grease drops fell from his nose,
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And like a beast befoul'd his hose,
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Whilst Jones, etc.
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A Welshman he came next sir,
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With joy and sorrow mixt sir,
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Who being partly vext sir,
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he out his dagger drew,
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Cuts-plutter-a-nails, quoth Taffie than,
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A Welshman is a Shentleman,
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Come Hostis fill's the other Can,
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For Jones, etc
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Thus like to men of courage stout,
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Couragiously they drank about,
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Till such time all the ale was out,
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as I may say to you.
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And when the business was done,
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They every man departed home,
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And promised Jone again to come,
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when she had brew'd anew.
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FINIS.
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