They sell good beer at Haslemere And under Guildford Hill; At little Cowfold, as I've been told, A beggar may drink his fill. There is a good brew in Amberley too, And by the Bridge also; But the swipes they take in at the Washington Inn Is the very best beer I know. With my here it goes, there it goes, All the fun's before us. The door's ajar and the barrel is sprung, The tipple's aboard and the night is young; I am singing the best song ever was sung, And it has a rousing chorus. If I was what I never can be, The Master or the Squire; If you gave me the rape from here to the sea Which is more than I desire: Then all my crops should be barley and hops, And did my harvest fail, I'd sell every rood of my acres, I would, For a bellyful of good ale. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEEP IN THE NIGHT by SARA TEASDALE TO A MOUSE, ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH by ROBERT BURNS THE SEARCH (1) by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 4 by EZRA POUND SONNET: 18 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE |