A pleasant new Ballad to look upon, How MALT Deals with every Man.
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MR. 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 pull'd 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 every bower,
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Thou can'st 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 a copper-nose,
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Saying, Thou and I will never be foes,
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but unto thee i'll 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 him his Master Malt no know,
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you never, etc.
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Our Hostis's 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 i'th' 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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He'd 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 warm'd with chips,
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Malt hit him right betwixt the lips,
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And made him lame on both his hipps,
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you never, etc.
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The Shoomaker 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 in the loom,
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He threatned Malt a cruel doom,
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And make 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 Hostis boldly stept,
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Till charg'd 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 was 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 stomack sick, Sir.
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The Taylor came to grind his sheers,
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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 fear'd his beer-mouth'd can,
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Though he had conquer'd many a man,
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and laid him in the dike, 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 i'th' brain,
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you never, etc.
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Then bespake the Tinker anon,
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And said he'd 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 Saylor he did curse and ban,
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He bid the boy go tap the can,
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I'll 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 play'd at hope and catch,
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Till Malt bestow'd 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 dye,
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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 Bicklayer 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 ply'd them with beer, ale, and wine,
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They left the brick-axe, 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 asleep, 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 Pewter-John came tumbling in,
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you never, etc.
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And laid on heads, and arms, and joynts,
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Took away gloves, and a gross of points,
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And swore they'd pay him in quarts & pints,
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you never, etc.
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Thus of my Song i'll 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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