Joan's ale is new, or, A New merry medly ... to a pleasant new northern tune.

JOAN's Ale is New; OR: A new merry Medly, shewing the power, the strength, the operation, and the vertue that remains in good Ale, which is accounted the Mother-drink of England. All you that do this merry Ditty view, Taste of Ioan's Ale, for it is strong and new. To a pleasant New Northern Tune.

THere was a jovial Tinker, Which was a good Ale-drinker, He never was a shrinker, believe me this is true, And he came from the wild of Kent. When all his money w • s gone and spent Which made him like a Jack-a-Lent, And Jones Ale is new, And Jones Ale is new Boys, And Jones Ale is new, The Tinker he did settle, Most like a man of mettle, And vow'd to pawn his Kettle, now mark what did ensue. His Neibors they flockt in apace. To see Tom Tinkers comely face, Where they drank soundly for a space, Whilst Jones Ale, &c. The Cobler and the Broom-man, Came next in the room man, And said they would drink for boon man, let each one take his due: But when good liquor they found, They cast their caps upon the ground, And to the Tinker he drank round: Whilst Jones Ale, &c. The Rag man he being weary, With the bundle he did carry, He swore he would be merry, and spend a shilling or two: And he told his Hostis to her face, The Chimney-corner was his place, And he began drink apace, And Jones Ale, &c. The Pedler he drew nigher, For it was his desire, To throw the Rags i'th fire, and burn the bundle blew, So whilst they drank whole flashes, And threw about the Glasses, The rags were burnt to ashes, And Jones Ale, &c

The second part, to the same Tune.

ANd then came in a Hatter, To see what was the matter, He scorned to drink cold water, amongst that Iovial crew, And like a man of courage stout, He took the quart-pot by the shout, And never left till all was out, O Jones Ale, &c. The Taylor being nimble, With Bodkin, Shears, and Thimble, He did no whit dessemble, I think his name was True, He said that he was like to choak, And call'd so fast for lap and smoak, Until he had pawn'd his Uinegar Cloak For Iones Ale, &c. Then came a pittiful Porter, Which often did resort there, Quoth he i'le shew some sport here, among'st this jovial crew, The Porter he had very bad luck, Before that it was ten a clock, The fool got drunk and lost his frock, For Iones, &c. The bony brave Shoo-maker. A brave Tobacoo-taker, He scorned to be a Quaker, I think his name was Hugh, He called for liquor in so fast, Till he forgot his Awl and Last. And up the reckoning he did tast, Whilst Jones, &c. And then came in the Weaver, You never saw a braver, With a Silk man and a Glover, Tom Tinker for to view, And so to welcome him to Town, Then every man spent half a crown, And so the drink went merrily down, For Iones, &c. Then came a drunken Dutchman, And he would have a touch man, But he soon took too much man, which made them after rue; He drank so long as I suppose, Till greaste drops fell from his nose, And like a beast befoul'd his hose, Whilst Iones, &c. A Welshman he came next sir, With joy and sorrow mixt sir, Who being partly vext sir, he out his dagger drew, Cuts-plutter-a-nails, quoth Taffie than, A Welshman is a Shentleman, Come Hostis fill's the other Can, For Jones, &c. Thus like to men of courage stout, Couragiously they drank about, Till such time all the ale was out, as I may say to you. And when the business was done, They every man departed home, And promised Ione again to come, when she had brew'd anew.

FINIS.