They sell good Beer at Haslemere And under Guildford Hill. At Little Cowfold as I’ve been told A beggar may drink his fill: There is a good brew in Amberley too, And by the bridge also; But the swipes they take in at Washington Inn Is the very best Beer I know. _Chorus_ With my here it goes, there it goes, All the fun’s before us: The Tipple’s Aboard and the night is young, The door’s ajar and the Barrel is sprung, I am singing the best song ever was sung And it has a rousing chorus. If I were what I never can be, The master or the squire: If you gave me the hundred from here to the sea, Which is more than I desire: Then all my crops should be barley and hops, And did my harvest fail I’d sell every rood of mine acres I would For a belly-full of good Ale. _Chorus_ With my here it goes, there it goes, All the fun’s before us: The Tipple’s aboard and the night is young, The door’s ajar and the Barrel is sprung, I am singing the best song ever was sung And it has a rousing chorus. A BALLAD ON SOCIOLOGICAL ECONOMICS A while ago it came to pass (Merry we carol it all the day), There sat a man on the top of an ass (Heart be happy and carol be gay In spite of the price of hay). And over the down they hoofed it so (Happy go lucky has best of fare), The man up above and the brute below (And singing we all forget to care A man may laugh if he dare). Over the stubble and round the crop (Life is short and the world is round), The donkey beneath and the man on top (Oh! let good ale be found, be found, Merry good ale and sound). It happened again as it happened before (Tobacco’s a boon but ale is bliss), The moke in the ditch and the man on the floor (And that is the moral to this, to this Remarkable artifice). AN ORACLE THAT WARNED THE WRITER WHEN ON PILGRIMAGE Matutinus adest ubi Vesper, et accipiens te Saepe recusatum voces intelligit hospes Rusticus ignotas notas, ac flumina tellus Occupat--In sancto tum, tum, stans Aede caveto Tonsuram Hirsuti Capitis, via namque pedestrem Ferrea praeveniens cursum, peregrine, laborem Pro pietate tua inceptum frustratur, amore Antiqui Ritus alto sub Numine Romae. _Translation of the above_:-- When early morning seems but eve And they that still refuse receive: When speech unknown men understand; And floods are crossed upon dry land. Within the Sacred Walls beware The Shaven Head that boasts of Hair, For when the road attains the rail The Pilgrim’s great attempt shall fail. HERETICS ALL Heretics all, whoever you be, In Tarbes or Nimes, or over the sea, You never shall have good words from me. _Caritas non conturbat me._ But Catholic men that live upon wine Are deep in the water, and frank, and fine; Wherever I travel I find it so, _Benedicamus Domino_.