THE
Good Fellows Frolick,
Or, Kent-Street Clubb.
Good people all come mind my merry Tale,
And you shall hear the vertue of good Ale,
Whose charming power some mens humors hits
It robs them of their money and their wits,
For he in time will surely money lack,
That loves his belly better than his back.
Tune of, Hey boys up go we.
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HEre is a crew of Jovial Blades
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That lovd the Nut-brown Ale,
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They in an Ale-house chancd to meet,
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and told a merry tale.
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A bonny Seaman was the first,
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but newly come to Town,
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And swore that he his Guts could burst
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with Ale that was so brown.
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See how the jolly Carrman he
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doth the strong Liquor prize;
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He so long in the Alehouse sate,
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that he drank out his eyes:
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And gropeing to get out of door
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(Sott like) he tumbled down,
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And there he like a mad-man swore
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he lovd the Ale so brown.
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The nimble Weaver he came in,
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and swore hed have a little,
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To drink good Ale it was no sin,
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thought made him pawn his Shittle:
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Quoth he, I am a Gentleman,
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no lusty Country Clown,
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But yet I love with all my heart
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the Ale that is so brown.
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Then next the Black-smith he came in,
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and said twas mighty hot,
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He sitting down did thus begin
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fair maid, bring me a pot
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Let it be of the very best
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that none exceeds in town,
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I tell you true and do not jest,
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I love the Ale so brown.
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The prick-louse-Taylor he came in,
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whose Tongue did run so nimble,
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And said he would ingage for drink
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his Bodkin and his Thimble:
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For though with long thin Jaws I look,
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I value not a Crown,
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So I can fill my belly full
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of Ale that is so brown.
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The lusty Porter passing by
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with Basket on his back,
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He said that he was grievous dry,
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and needs would pawn his Sack:
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His angry wife he did not fear,
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he valued not her frown,
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So he had that he lovd so dear,
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I mean the Ale so brown.
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The next that came was one of them
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was of the Gentle Craft,
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And when that he was wet within,
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most heartily he laughd:
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Crispin was ner so boon as he,
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though some Kinn to a Crown,
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And there he sate most merrily,
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with Ale that was so brown.
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But at the last a Barber he
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a mind had for to taste,
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He called for a pint of drink,
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and said he was in haste:
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The drink so pleasd, he tarryed there
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till he had spent a Crown,
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Twas all the money he could spare
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for Ale that is so brown.
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A Broome-man as he passed by
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his mornings-draught did lack,
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Because that he no money had
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he pawnd his shirt froms back;
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And said that he without a shirt
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would cry Brooms up and down,
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But yet quoth he Ile merry be
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with Ale that is so brown.
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But when all these together met,
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oh what discourse was there,
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Twould make ones hair to stand an end
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to hear how they did swear:
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One was a fool and puppy-dog,
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the other was a clown,
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And there they sate and swilld their guts
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with Ale that was so brown.
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The Landlady they did abuse,
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and calld her nasty Whore;
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Quoth she do you my reckoning pay,
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and get you out of door;
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Of them she could no money get,
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which caused her to frown,
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But loath they were to leave behind
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the Ale that was so brown.
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