Nottingham Ale



When Venus, the goddess of beauty and love

Arose from the froth that swam on the sea

Minerva sprang out of the cranium of Jove

A coy, sullen dame as most mortals agree

But Bacchus, they tell us, that prince of good fellows

Was Jupiter's son, pray attend my tale

They who thus chatter mistake quite the matter

He sprang from a barrel of Nottingham Ale



Nottingham Ale, me boys, Nottingham Ale

No liquor on earth is like Nottingham Ale

Nottingham Ale, me boys, Nottingham Ale

No liquor on earth is like Nottingham Ale



You bishops and curates, priests, deacons and vicars

When once you have tasted, you all must agree

That Nottingham Ale is the best of all liquors

And none understands a good creature like thee.

It dispels every vapor, saves pen, ink and paper

For when you've a mind in your pulpit to rail

It'll open your throats, you may preach without notes

When inspired with a bumper of Nottingham Ale.



Ye poets who pray on the Hellican brooke

The nectar of Gods and the juice of the vine,

You say none can write well except they invoke

The friendly assistance of one of the Nine.

His liquor surpassed the streams of Parnassus

That nectar, Ambrosia, on which Gods regale

Experience will show it, naught makes a good poet

Like quantum sufficients of Nottingham Ale.



And you doctors, who more executions have done

With powder and potion and bolus and pill

Than hangman with halter, or soldier with gun

Miser with famine or lawyer with quill

To dispatch us the quicker, you forbid us malt liquor

Till our bodies consume, and our faces grow pale

Let him mind you, who pleases, what cures all diseases

A plentiful glass of good Nottingham Ale.



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