I. WHILST some in Epic strains delight, Whilst others Pastorals invite, As taste or whim prevail; Assist me, all ye tuneful Nine, Support me in the great design, To sing of nappy Ale. II. Some folks of Cyder make a rout, And Cyder's well enough, no doubt, When better liquors fail; But Wine, that's richer, better still, Ev'n Wine itself (deny't who will) Must yield to nappy Ale. III. Rum, Brandy, Gin with choicest smack From Holland brought, Batavia Arrack, All these will nought avail To chear a truly British heart, And lively spirits to impart, Like humming, nappy Ale. IV. Oh! whether thee I closely hug In honest can, or nut-brown jug, Or in the tankard hail; In barrel, or in bottle pent, I give the gen'rous spirit vent, Still may I feast on Ale. V. But chief, when to the chearful glass From vessel pure thy streamlets pass Then most thy charms prevail; Then, then, I'll bett, and take odds, That nectar, drink of heathen gods, Was poor, compar'd to Ale. VI. Give me a bumper, fill it up. See how it sparkles in the cup, O how shall I regale! Can any taste this drink divine, And then compare Rum, Brandy, Wine, Or aught with nappy Ale? VII. Inspir'd by thee, the warrior fights, The lover wooes, the poet writes, And pens the pleasing tale; And still in Britain's isle confess'd Nought animates the patriot's breast Like gen'rous, nappy Ale. VIII. High Church and Low oft raise a strife, And oft endanger limb and life, Each studious to prevail; Yet Whig and Tory opposite In all things else, do both unite In praise of nappy Ale. IX. Inspir'd by thee, shall Crispin sing, Or talk of freedom, church, and king, And balance Europe's scale; While his rich landlord lays out schemes Of wealth, in golden South Sea dreams, Th' effects of nappy Ale. X. O blest potation! still by thee, And thy companion Liberty, Do health and mirth prevail; Then let us crown the can, the glass, And sportive bid the minutes pass In quaffing nappy Ale. XI. Ev'n while these stanzas I indite, The bar-bell's grateful sounds invite Where joy can never fail! Adieu! my Muse, adieu! I haste To gratify my longing taste With copious draughts of ALE. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WINTER GARDEN THEATRE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DECEPTION PASS; FOR JUDY AND MARK KAWASAKI by KAREN SWENSON 1914: 3. THE DEAD by RUPERT BROOKE THE GOLDEN TARGE by WILLIAM DUNBAR THE SECRETARY; WRITTEN AT THE HAGUE, 1696 by MATTHEW PRIOR THE DOUBLE CROWNING by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 3. EARLY MORNING by EDWARD CARPENTER |