Back and side go bare, go bare,
 Both foot and hand go cold;
 But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,
 Whether it be new or old.

 I cannot eat but little meat,
 My stomach is not good;
 But sure I think that I can drink
 With him that wears a hood.
 Though I go bare, take ye no care,
 I am nothing a-cold;
 I stuff my skin so full within
 Of jolly good ale and old.
 Back and side go bare, go bare, 
 Both foot and hand go cold; 
 But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, 
 Whether it be new or old.

 I love no roast but a nutbrown toast,
 And a crab laid in the fire;
 A little bread shall do me stead,
 Much bread I not desire.
 No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,
 Can hurt me if I would,
 I am so wrapt, and throughly lapt
 Of jolly good ale and old.
 Back and side go bare, go bare, 
 Both foot and hand go cold; 
 But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, 
 Whether it be new or old.

 And Tib my wife, that as her life
 Loveth well good ale to seek,
 Full oft drinks she, till ye may see
 The tears run down her cheek.
 Then doth she troll to me the bowl,
 Even as a maltworm should;
 And saith,"Sweetheart, I took my part
 Of this jolly good ale and old."
 Back and side go bare, go bare, 
 Both foot and hand go cold; 
 But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, 
 Whether it be new or old.

 Now let them drink, till they nod and wink,
 Even as good fellows should do;
 They shall not miss to have the bliss
 Good ale doth bring men to.
 And all poor souls that have scoured bowls,
 Or have them lustily troll'd,
 God save the lives of them and their wives,
 Whether they be young or old.
 Back and side go bare, go bare,
 Both foot and hand go cold; 
 But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, 
 Whether it be new or old.