| Lyrics: | Watkins Ale
That was a maid this other day
And she must needs go forth to
play.
And as she walked, she sighed and said
''I am afraid to die a maid.''
When that
be heard a lad, what talk this maiden had,
Where of he was full glad and did not spare
To
say ''Fair maid, I pray, wither go to today?''
''Good sir,'' then did she say, ''What do you
care?''
''For I will, without fail,
Maiden give to you Watkins ale.''
''Watkins ale,
sir,'' quoth she,
What is that, I pray you tell me?''
'Tis sweeter far than sugar
fine
And pleasanter than Muscadine.
And if you please fair maid to stay
A little
while to sport and play
I will give you the same, Watkins ale called by name,
Or else I
were to blame, in truth fair maid.
''Good sir,'' quoth she again, ''If you will take the
pain,
I shall it not refrain, nor be dismayed.''
He took this maiden then aside
And
led her where she was not spied
And told her many a pretty tale,
And gave her well of
Watkins ale.
When he had done to her his will,
They talked but what I shall not
skill
At last she said, ''Spare your tale,
Give me some more of Watkins ale
Or else I
will not stay, for I must needs away,
My mother bade me play, the time is past.
Therefore,
good sir,'', quoth she, ''if you have done with me.''
''Nay soft, fair maid,'' quoth he again
at last.
Let us talk a little while.''
With that the maiden began to smile.
And said,
''Good sir, full well I know,
Your ale I see runs very low.''
This young man then,
begin so blamed,
Did blush as one being ashamed.
He took her by the middle small,
And
gave her more of Watkins ale
And said, ''Fair maid I pray, when you go forth to
play,
Remember what I say, walk not alone.''
''Nay soft,'' said she again. ''I thank you
for your pain,
For fear of further stain, I must be gone.''
''Farewell maiden,'' then
quoth he;
''Adieu good sir,'' again quoth she
Thus they parted then at last,
Till
thrice three months were gone and passed.
This maiden then fell very sick.
Her
maidenhead began to kick.
Her color waxed wan and pale,
With taking much of Watkins
ale.
I wish all maidens coy, that hear this pretty toy,
Wherein most women's joy, how they
do sport.
For surely Watkins ale, and if it be not stale,
Will bring them to some bale, as
hath report.
New ale will make their bellies bowne,
As trial by this same has
shown.
This proverb hath been taught in schools,
It is no jesting with edged
tools.
Good maids and wives, I pardon crave,
And lack not that which you would
have.
To blush it is a woman's grace,
And well becometh a maiden's face.
For women
will refuse the thing that they would choose,
So men should them excuse of thinking
ill.
Cat will after kind, all winkers are not blind,
You maidens know my mind, say what
you will.
When you drink ale, beware the toast,
For therein lies the danger most.
If
any here offended be,
Then blame the author, blame not me.
Note: Tune is from Queen
Elizabeth's Virginal Book. Words earlier
than 1592. RG
@seduction @bawdy
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WATKALE
play.exe WATKALE
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