The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #93815   Message #2696086
Posted By: sciencegeek
08-Aug-09 - 06:42 PM
Thread Name: Lyr Req: 'juice of barley', song from about 1690
Subject: Lyr Add: A CUP OF OLD STINGO
For any care... at long last I found the lyrics to go to tune "Juice of Barley" found in Playford.

A similar version is on Shay's Rebellion site

Stingo, or, Oil of Barley, or, A Cup of Old Stingo
To it's tune

There's a lusty liquor which good fellows use to take -- a,
It is distill'd with nard most rich, and water of the lake -- a;
Of hop a little quantity, and barm to it they bring too;
Being barrell'd up, they call't a cup of dainty good old stingo.

'Twill make a man indentures make, 'twill make a fool seem wise,
'Twill make a Puritan sociate, and leave to be precise;
'Twill make him dance about a cross, and eke to run the ring too,
Or anything he once thought gross, such virtue hath old stingo.

'Twill make a constable over see sometimes to serve a warrant;
'Twill make a bailiff lose his fee, though he be a knave-arrant;
'Twill make a lawyer, though that he to ruin oft men brings, too,
Sometimes forget to take his fee if his head be lin'd with stingo.

'Twill make a parson not to flinch, though he seen wondrous holy,
And for to kiss a pretty wench, and think it is no folly;
'Twill make him learn for to decline the verb that's called mingo,
'Twill make his nose like copper shine, if his head be lin'd with stingo.

'Twill make a weaver break his yarn, that works with right and left foot,
But he hath a trick to save himself, he'll say there wanteth woof to't;
'Twill make a tailor break his thread, and eke his thimble ring too,
'Twill make him not to care for bread, if his head be lin'd with stingo.

'Twill make a baker quite forget that ever corn was cheap,
'Twill make a butcher have a fit sometimes to dance and leap;
'Twill make the miller keep his room, a health for to begin, too,
'Twill make him shew his golden thumb, if his head be lin'd with stingo.

'Twill make an hostess free of heart, and leave her measures pinching,
'Twill make an host with liquor part, and bid him hang all flinching;
It's so belov'd, I dare protest, men cannot live without it,
And when they find there is the best the most will flock about it.

And finally, the beggar poor, that walks till he be weary,
Craving along from door to door, with pre-commiserere;
If he do change to catch a touch, although his clothes be thin, too,
Though he be lame, he'll prove his crutch if his head be lin'd with stingo.

Now to conclude, here is a health unto the lad that spendeth,
Let every man drink off his can, and so my ditty endeth;
I willing am my friend to pledge, for he will meet me one day;
Let's drink the barrel to the dregs, for the malt-man comes a-Monday.