Men-Miracles | ||
63
Song against Ale.
Come your Ale is a liquor,Drawes thicker and thicker,
Tis the damme to that Heretique Beere.
Twas begot in a huddle,
By a Fogge and a Puddle,
Which the Beames of the Toast cannot cleere.
Tis a Magicall charme,
Turnes wit into Barme,
Tis a Spell 'gainst the Muses and Braines:
Doth Pegasus force,
To be a Brewers Horse,
And stuffes up his Manger with Graines.
Lays Hippocrene flat,
Asleepe in a Fat,
To be laught at by every Lay-man.
Each Muse that comes after,
Turnes Sutlers daughter,
And Apollo himselfe to a Dray-man.
Men-Miracles | ||