The play is a comedy-farce in five acts, the central idea being the loss by an old dame of her needle, a half-crazy mischief-making wag setting it about that this (at that time of day) precious possession has been stolen by another old woman, the whole village being ultimately set by the ears about the matter. Finally it is found sticking in the breech of Gammer Gurton's man Hodge. The text followed is that of Colwell's edition of 1575, modernised in spelling and punctuation. Copies of the original are to be found in the British Museum, Bodleian, and Huth libraries. It has been several times reprinted, but never before in modern days in a separate form: (1) in quarto in 1661; (2) in Hawkins' _Origin of the English Drama_, 1773; (3) in all the editions of _Dodsley's Old Plays_ (1744, 1780, 1825, and 1876); (4) in _The Ancient British Drama_, ed. by Sir W. Scott, 1810; (5) in _Old English Drama_, 1830; (6) in Prof. Manly's _Specimens of the Pre-Shakspearean Drama_, 1897; and (7) in Gayley's _Representative English Comedies_, 1903. A facsimile title-page will be found preceding the text, and the device of Thomas Colwell, the printer of the play, on page 64. The song on page 12 is one of the oldest drinking-songs extant. An older version, modernised in spelling, is given below. Dr. Bradley does not regard it as likely to be "much older than the middle of the sixteenth century (the O.E.D. gives it as c. 1550), and it may possibly be later." As Skelton died 1529, the inference is obvious. Back and side go bare, go bare; Both hand and foot go cold; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, Whether it be new or old. But if that I may have, truly, Good ale my belly full, I shall look like one (by sweet Saint John) Were shorn against the wool. Though I go bare, take ye no care, I am nothing cold. I stuff my skin so full within Of jolly good ale and old. I cannot eat but little meat; My stomach is not good; But sure I think that I could drink With him that weareth a hood. Drink is my life; although my wife Some time do chide and scold, Yet spare I not to ply the pot Of jolly good ale and old. Back and side, &c. I love no roast but a brown toast, Or a crab in the fire; A little bread shall do me stead, Much bread I never desire. Nor frost, nor snow, nor wind, I trow, Can hurt me if it would; I am so wrapped within, and lapped With jolly good ale and old. Back and side, &c. I care right nought, I take no thought For clothes to keep me warm; Have I good drink, I surely think Nothing can do me harm. For truly then I fear no man, Be he never so bold, When I am armed, and thoroughly warmed With jolly good ale and old. Back and side, &c.