A Tankard of Ale: An Anthology of Drinking Songs

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Theodore Maynard
R. M. McBride, 1920 - 205페이지

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165 페이지 - DRINK to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
72 페이지 - I have heard that on a day Mine host's sign-board flew away, Nobody knew whither, till An astrologer's old quill To a sheepskin gave the story, Said he saw you in your glory, Underneath a new old-sign Sipping beverage divine, And pledging with contented smack The Mermaid in the Zodiac.
23 페이지 - Now let them drink till they nod and wink, Even as good fellows should do ; They shall not miss to have the bliss Good ale doth bring men to ; And all poor souls that have...
90 페이지 - Chorus* Let the toast pass, — Drink to the lass, I'll warrant she'll prove an excuse for the glass, Here's to the charmer whose dimples we prize ; Now to the maid who has none, sir : Here's to the girl with a pair of blue eyes; And here's to the nymph with but one, sir.
23 페이지 - 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.
90 페이지 - Here's to the maid with a bosom of snow: Now to her that's as brown as a berry: Here's to the wife with a face full of woe, And now to the damsel that's merry.
22 페이지 - 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.
72 페이지 - Would, with his maid Marian, Sup and bowse from horn and can. I have heard that on a day Mine host's sign-board flew away, Nobody knew whither, till...
54 페이지 - The bowl goes trim, the moon doth shine. And our ballast is old wine; And your ballast is old wine.
68 페이지 - Quaes, and their Quods, They're all but a parcel of pigeons. Toroddle, toroddle, toroll ! When Methodist preachers come down, A-preaching that drinking is sinful, I'll wager the rascals a crown, They always preach best with a skinful.

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