%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Merry Boys of Europe. / No Liquor like the brisk Canary, / It makes the dull Soul blith and merry; / It helps the Back, prolongs the Life, / And is much better then a Wife. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1651-1651 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/19/2011 31360

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R229079 1 Now, now the Fight's done, etc. UNKNOWN Now, Now the Fight's Done, Etc. I'Le Drink of my Bottle each night for my share; / And as for a Mistris I'le never take care; Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 4: 61 The Merry Boys of Europe. / No Liquor like the brisk Canary, / It makes the dull Soul blith and merry; / It helps the Back, prolongs the Life, / And is much better then a Wife. The Merry Boys of Europe. No Liquor like the brisk Canary, It makes the dull Soul blith and merry; It helps the Back, prolongs the Life, And is much better then a Wife. The Merry Boys of Europe. No Liquor like the brisk Canary, It makes the dull Soul blithe and merry; It helps the Back, prolongs the Life, And is much better then a Wife. 1651-1651 J. Clarke

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic The New World travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/ crass humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 4/19/2011 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America alcohol Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 4/19/2011 11:18:23 AM XBallad Meyer, Shannon Created XML Version of Ballad 4/19/2011 11:18:23 AM Transcription Supervisor McAbee, Kristina, Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/19/2011 11:18:23 AM Double-Key Comparison and Merging Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/19/2011 11:18:23 AM Transcriptionist Two Nebeker, Eric Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/19/2011 11:18:23 AM Transcriptionist One Becker, Charlotte Transcription of ballad manuscript 7/27/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 7/27/2010 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/4/2011 Checker Bethany Wong Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 4/16/2011 Checker Shannon Meyer Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 2/2/2009 Bibliographer Eric Nebeker Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created
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ILe Drink of my Bottle each night for my share, And as for a Mistris Ile never take care; The one makes me jolly and evermore gay, But a Mistris destroys by her sporting and play; She drains all my Blood till I look quite as pale As a Thief thats half-starved, long kept in a Goal. She infeebles my Nerves, and doth shorten my life, And empties my Pockets, and so will a Wife; Then Women make Asses of those that you can, Ile find out a Comrade, some jolly young-man; And in our full Glasses wel laugh and wel jest, So perhaps for diversion wel drink to the best.
When our senses are drownd, & our eyes they do pink And our selves do not know what we say or do think; Our wits we conceive are far better then they, Who to the Sack-Bottle could ner find the way: Then a Pox of those Misers who hourly do scrape, And knows not the virtue that lies in the Grape. Then Beauties farewel, for Ile ner be your slave, Nor for your fair looks sigh my self to a Grave, But the Bottle Ile hug, which preserveth my life, Puts an end to my sorrows, and banisheth strife: When my thread it is spun; & my hour comes to dye; Like Diogenes I in a Sack-Butt will lye.
And that close Wainscot-room shall my body confine, Who valued not women, but loved good wine; To Bacchus Ile surely be a Sacrifice, And ner be intangled by Ladies fair eyes; Whose delight is to see men to sigh and to mourn, And their eyes they do feast when they see men forlorn What a fool is that man that will bow & will cringe To beauty, so he doth his freedom infringe; And whilst he might live and for-ever be free, Himself he deprives of his chief Liberty; His rest it is lost and his spirits do fail, Hes a foe to himself and doth build his own Goal. Then give me the Lad that will swim in the Bottle, And not in salt water like vexd Aristotle; For had he but then been acquainted with Sack, His Judgment in tides he never would lack; When he by his study his brains did confound, He leapt in the Ocean, and there he was drownd. But this Liquor of Life which I so much commend To ery true Toper, will prove a true friend, And wash from his heart all his sorrow and care, In Poverty keep him from doubt and dispair: Then who can but love this unparalleld thing. That makes nobles of peasants; & is drink for a King. If the mind be disturbd, take this Liquor but free, And youl find in a moment you cured will be: If you grieve or do mourn for the loss of a friend, This Liquor undoubtedly comfort will lend; Tis good for all Men, and in every condition, Will keep them from charge of a prating Physitian. Then matchless Canary Ile sing forth thy fame, And will against Beauty for ever exclaim, For he that doth once fall in love with the Vine, Will never have reason at all to repine; For it cheers our dull souls, while we merrily sing, Long live Charles the second, our Soveraign King. In the height of our sport we no Treason conspire, To be brisk and be merry is all our desire; Our hearts have no harbour for any ill thought; We despise spight and malice and all that is nought: And in our full Bumpers wel laugh and wel sing, And for our diversion wel drink to the King.
Printed for J. Clarke, at the Horse-shooe, in West-smith- field, between the Hospital-Gate and Duck-Lane end.