I cannot eat but little meat,
My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I can drink
With him that wears a hood.
Though I go bare, take ye no care,
I nothing am a-cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare;
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

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 wold;
I am so wrapp'd and thoroughly lapp'd
Of jolly good ale and old.
Back and side go bare, go bare;
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

And Tib, my wife, that as her life
Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinks she till ye may see
The tears run down her cheek:
Then doth she trowl to me the bowl
Even as a maltworm should,
And saith, 'Sweetheart, I took my part
Of this jolly good ale and old.'
Back and side go bare, go bare;
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

Now let them drink till they nod and wink,
Even as good fellows should do;
They shall not miss to have that bliss
Good ale doth bring men to;
And all poor souls that have scour'd bowls
Or have them lustily troll'd,
God save the lives of them and their wives,
Whether they be young or old.
Back and side go bare, go bare;
Both foot and hand go cold;
But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
Whether it be new or old.

Knock at this lowly cottage door;
Say to its drudge: Thy task is o'er.
Long labor hadst thou, scanty wage;
Thy youth scarce built to shield thine age.
Thine was the boon of hard earned bread,
The slumber of the workman's bed;
Some broken dreams, some harmless pride,
Some hopes of heaven, by few denied;
In faith and hope and charity
As thou hast done, be done to thee.

Enter, unasked, yon lordly pile
Where flatterers cringe and varlets smile.
Go where the jewels bravest flash,
The perfumes breathe, the goblets clash.
Say to each pampered inmate: Lo!
The lapse of time doth end thy show.
Thy wealth shall fill another's hand,
A stranger in thy room shall stand.
By faith and hope and charity,
As thou hast done, be done to thee.