I'm really interested in this sort of thing as long as it stays with bawdy ie "artistic" songs rather than just filth for filth sake.

Here by the way is Watkin's Ale (save you the typing)

Watkin’s Ale

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, I am afraid to die a maid

With that beheld a lad, What talk this maiden had

Whereof he was full glad, And did not spare

To say, fair maid I pray, Whither go you today?

Good sir, then she did say, What do you care?

For I will, without fail, Maiden, give you Watkin's Ale

Watkin's Ale, good sir, quoth she

What is that? I pray you tell me.

Tis sweeter far than sugar fine, And pleasanter than Muscadine

And if you please, fair maid, to stay, A little while with me to play

I will give you the same, Watkin's Ale call'd by name

Or else I were to blame, In truth, fair maid

Good sir, quoth she again, If you will take the pain

I will it not refrain, Nor be dismay'd

He 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 merry 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'd, 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, saving your tale, Give me some more of Watkin's Ale

Or else I will not stay, For I must needs away

My mother bade me play, The time is past

Therefore good sir, quoth she, If 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 sir, full well I know, Your ale, I see, runs very low

This young man then being so blam'd, Did blush as one being asham'd

He took her by the middle small, And gave her more of Watkin's Ale

And said, fair maid I pray, When you go forth to play

Remember what I say, Walk not alone

Good sir, quoth she again, I thank you for your pain

For fear of further stain, I will be gone

Farewell maiden, then quoth he, Adieu good sir, again quoth she

Thus they parted till at last, Thrice three months had come 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

I wish all maidens coy, That hear this pretty toy

Wherein most women joy, How they do sport

For surely Watkin's Ale, And if it not be stale

Will turn them to some bale, As hath report

New ale will make their bellies bowne, As trial by this same is well known

If any here offended be, Then blame the author, blame not me.