Dear Mother, dear Mother, the Church is cold, But the Ale-house is healthy & pleasant & warm; Besides I can tell where I am used well, Such usage in Heaven will never do well.
But if at the Church they would give us some Ale, And a pleasant fire our souls to regale, We'd sing and we'd pray all the live-long day, Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
Then the Parson might preach & drink & sing, And we'd be as happy as birds in the spring; And modest Dame Lurch, who is always at Church, Would not have bandy children, nor fasting, nor birch.
And God, like a father rejoicing to see His children as pleasant and happy as he, Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the Barrel, But kiss him, & give him both drink and apparel. |