The.ii. Acte. Fyrste a Songe.

Backe and syde go bare, go bare, booth foote and hande go colde: 
But Bellye god sende thee good ale ynoughe, whether it be newe or olde. 
I Can not eate but lytle meate, my stomacke is not good: 
But sure I thmke that I can drynke with him that weares a hood. 
Thoughe I go bare take ye no care, I am nothinge a colde: 
I stuffe my skyn so full within, of ioly good Ale and olde. 
Backe and syde go bare go bare, booth foote and hand go colde: 
But belly god send the good ale inoughe whether it be new or olde. 
I loue no rost but a nut browne toste and a Crab layde in the fyre, 
A lytle bread shall do me stead much breade I not desyre: 
No froste nor snow, no winde I trowe can hurte mee if I wolde, 
I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt of ioly good ale and olde. 
Backe and syde go bare &c. 
And Tyb my wyfe that as her lyfe loueth well good ale to seeke, 
Full ofte drynkes shee tyll ye may see the teares run downe her cheekes: 
Then dooth she trowle to mee the bowle euen as a mault worme shuld, 
And sayth sweete hart I tooke my part of this ioly good ale and olde. 
Backe and syde go bare &c. 
Now let them drynke tyll they nod and winke, euen as good felowes shoulde
doe 
They shall not mysse to haue the blisse, good ale doth bringe men to: 
And all poore soules that haue scowred boules or haue them lustely trolde, 
God saue the lyues of them and theyr wyues whether they be yonge or olde. 
Backe and syde go bare &c.