A Pleasant Old BALLAD to look upon,
How Master Malt deals with every Man.
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MASTER Malt is a Gentleman,
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And hath been since the World began,
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I never in my Life knew any Man,
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Could match with Master Malt, Sir.
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I never knew any match Malt but once,
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The Miller with his grinding Stones,
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He pulld his Flesh from off his Bones,
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You never saw the like, Sir.
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Malt, Malt, thou art a Flower,
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Beloved right well in evry Bower,
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Thou canst not be missing one half Hour,
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You never, etc.
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For laying of the Stones so close,
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Malt gave the Miller such a Copper-Nose,
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Saying, Thou and I will never be Foes,
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But unto thee Ill stick; Sir.
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Malt gave the Miller such a blow,
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That from his Horse he fell full low,
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He taught his Master Malt to know,
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You never, etc.
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Our Hostesss Maid was much to blame,
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To steal Malt away from her Dame,
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And in her Belly hide the same,
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You never, etc.
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That when the Malt did work in her Head,
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Twice in a Day she would be sped,
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At Night she could not get to Bed,
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Nor scarce stand on her Feet, Sir.
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Then came in Master Smith,
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And said, That Malt he was a Thief;
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But Malt gave him such a Dash ith Teeth,
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You never, etc.
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For when his Iron was hot and red,
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He had such an Ach all in his Head,
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His boon Comrades got him to Bed,
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For he was very Sick, Sir.
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The Carpenter came a Piece to Square.
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And bid Malt come if he dare,
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Hed thwack his Sides and Belly bare,
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And him full soundly beat, Sir.
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To the Fire he went well warmd with Chips
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Malt bit him right betwixt the Lips,
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And made him Lame on both his Hips,
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You never, etc.
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The Shoemaker sitting on his Seat,
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At Master Malt began to fret,
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He said he would the Knave so beat,
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With his sharp Spanish Knife, Sir.
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But Malt came peeping through the Hall,
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And did his Brains so fiercely maul,
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He turned round and caught a Fall,
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You never, etc.
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The Weaver sitting at the Loom,
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He threatned Malt a cruel doom,
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And made him to repulse the Room,
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Or throw him in a Dike, Sir.
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Whereat a Court some Weavers kept,
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And to their Hostess boldly stept,
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Till chargd with double Pots they slept,
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You never, etc.
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The Tinker took the Weavers Part,
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Such furious Rage possest his Heart,
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He took the Pot and drank a Quart,
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His Wits were very Ripe, Sir.
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For Malt the Upper-hand so got,
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He knew not how [to pay the shot]
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But Part without the Reckoning Pot,
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And found his Stomach sick, Sir.
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The Taylor came to grind his Shears,
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And shews to Malt what Spleen he bears,
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But soon they fell together by the Ears,
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And sore each other struck, Sir.
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And when his Pressing Iron was hot,
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He pressed the Board instead of a Coat,
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And sailed Home in a Feather-bed Boat,
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You never, etc.
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The Tinker walking round the Pan,
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But Malt much feard his Beer-mouthd Can,
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Though he had conquerd many a Man,
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And laid him in the Dyke, Sir.
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Yet was the Tinker gladly fain,
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With Malt to have a Bout or twain,
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Till he again was shot th Brain,
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You never, etc.
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Then bespake the Tinker anon,
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And said, Hed prove himself a Man,
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And laid at Malt till his Legs were gone,
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You never, etc.
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The Sailor he did Curse and Ban,
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He bid the Boy go tap the Can,
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Ill have a bout with Malt anon,
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You never, etc.
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Aboard they went to try the Match,
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And long they playd at hope and catch,
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Till Malt bestowd him under a Hatch,
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You never, etc.
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Then came a Chapman travelling by,
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With cheapning long his Throat was dry,
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And at Master Malt did fly,
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And furiously him struck, Sir.
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Till having laid at Malt apace,
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Great store of Blood was in his Face.
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And he was found in such a Case,
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You never, etc.
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The Mason came an Oven to make,
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The Bricklayer he his Part did take,
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They bound him to the Good-Ale Stake,
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You never, etc.
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Then Malt began to tell his Mind,
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And plyd them with Beer, Ale, and Wine,
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They left Brick-Ax, Trowel, behind,
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They could not lay a Brick, Sir.
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Then came the Labourer in his Hood,
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And saw his two Masters how they stood,
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He took his Master Malt by the Hood,
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And swore he would him strike, Sir.
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Malt he ran, and for fear did weep,
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The Labourer he did skip and leap,
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But Malt made him into the Morter to leap,
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And there he fell a sleep, Sir,
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The Glover came to buy a Skin,
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Malt hit him right above the Chin;
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Then Porter John came tumbling in,
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You never, etc.
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And laid on Heads, and Arms, and Joints,
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Took away Gloves, and Gross of Points,
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And swore theyd pay him in Quarts and Pints,
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You never, etc.
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Thus of my Song Ill make an End,
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And pray my Host to be my Friend,
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To give me some Drink, or Money to spend,
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[For Malt and I am quiet Sir]
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