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There was a maid this other day
And she must needs go forth to play
And as she walk'd, she sit'th and said
1 am afraid to die a maid
With that beheld a lad
What talk this maiden had
Whereof he was full clad
And did not spare
To say, fair maid I pray
whither go you today?
Good air, then she did say
What do you care?
For 1 will, without fall,
Maiden, give you Watkin's Ale
Watkin's Ale, good sir, quoth she
What is that? 1 pray you tell me.
Tis sweeter far than sugar fine
And pleasanter than Museadine
And if you please, fair maid, to stay
A little while with me to play
1 will give you the same
Watkin's Ale call'd by name
Or else 1 were to blame
In truth, fair maid
Good air, quoth she again
It you will take the pain
1 will it not refrain
Nor he dismay'd
Re 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 Watkin's Ale.
Good sir, quoth she in smiling sort
What do you call this werry sport?
Or what is this you do to me?
Tis called Watkin's Ale. quoth he
Wherein fair maid you may
Report another day
When you go forth to play
How you did speed
Indeed good sir, quoth she
It is a pretty glee
And it well pleaseth me
No doubt indeed
Thus they sported and they play 'cl
This young man and this pretty maid
Under a bank whereas they lay
Not long ago this very day
when he had done to her his will They talk'd of what it shall not skill At last quoth she, saying your tale Give me some wore of Watkin's Ale Or else 1 will not stay For 1 must needs away MY mother bade me play The time is past Therefore good sir, quoth she It you have done with me Nay soft fair maid, quoth he Again at last Let us talk a little while At that the maid began to smile And said, good air, full well 1 know Your ale, 1 see, runs very low
This young man then being so blam'd Did ]blush as one being asham'd Re took her by the middle small And gave her wore of Watkin's Ale And said, fair maid 1 pray When you go forth to play Remember what 1 say Walk not alone Good sir, quoth she again 1 thank you for your pain For tear of further stain 1 will be gone Farewell maiden, then quoth he Adieu good sir, again quoth she Thus they parted till at last Thrice three months had comae to pass
This maiden then fell very sick
Her maidenhead began to kick
Her colour waxed wan and pale
With taking much of Watkin's Ale
1 wish all maidens coy
That bear this pretty toy
Wherein most women joy
Now they do sport
For surely Watkin's Ale
And if it not be stale
Will turn thew& to some bale
AS bath report
New ale will make their bellies howne
AS trial by this same is well known
If any here offended be
Then blame the author, bl ~c not me.
NOTE: This fine Elizabethan song is part of the repertoire of Lady Monika zgneizno, and is repeated with her permission
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