bellies without food, and not a penny to buy anything, and the kernes having burnt all the corne and destroyed all fit for succour, we forced to march bare legged and bare footed, having neither fire nor food, we perish in misery, and our Commanders being in a manner in the same case, having nothing but good words to pay us with, shewing us often your Orders upon Orders for our pay, plentifully promising but not performing, and thus wee dropping downe dead daily in our marching, and so feeble and so weak, being not able to fight or do any more service without some supply, but all like to starve and die in misery, when all meanes is anticipated, and the Tax of 60000l. wholly ingrossed by your Army from us, and your Souldiery quartered in Kings houses, and clad Gentile like, and fed in Free-quarter to the full, and lie in good beds, and take their pleasure and ease in rest and peace. We humbly desire our hungry bellies may once be filled, and our naked backs be cloathed, and our legs and feet be hosed and shooed, and our Surgeons once more fitted, and all recruited with food to supply us once more, that we may go out again to finish that work we have begun, and not to lie like Drones to eat up others meat, and we do not doubt, but with Gods blessing to give you a happy account of the Conquest of the whole Land, and shall ever pray for a happy Parliament. DUBLIN: Printed by _W. B._ _1648_ (_Feb. 18. 1647_). GOOD ALE FOR MY MONEY[F. 171] The Good-fellowes resolution of strong Ale, That cures his nose from looking pale. To the Tune of The Countrey Lass. Be merry my friends, and list a while [96.] unto a merry jest, It may from you produce a smile, when you heare it exprest: Of a young man lately married, which was a boone good fellow; This song in 's head he alwaies carried, when drinke had made him mellow. _I cannot go home, nor I will not go home, it's 'long of the oyle of Barly, I'le tarry all night for my delight, and go home in the morning early._ No Tapster stout, or Vintner fine, quoth he shall ever get One groat out of this purse of mine to pay his masters debt: Why should I deal with sharking Rookes, that seeke poore guls to cozen, To give twelve pence for a quart of wine, of ale 'twill buy a dozen. _'Twill make me sing, I cannot go home &c_ The old renowned Ipocrist[F. 172] and Raspie[F. 173] doth excell, But never any wine could yet my honour please to swell: The Rhenish wine or Muscadine, sweet Malmsie is too fulsome, No, give me a cup of Barlie broth for that is very wholesome. _'Twill make me sing &c_-- [Illustration] Hot Waters are to me as death, and soon the head oreturneth, And Nectar hath so strong a breath Canary when it burneth. It cures no paine but breakes the braine, and raps out oathes and curses, And makes men part with heavie heart, but light it makes their purses. _I cannot go home &c_