A pleasant new Ballad to look upon, How malt deals with every man.  

mass malt is a Gentleman,  
And hath been since the world began  
I never in my life knew any man  

could match with Master Malt sir,   
I never knew any match malt but once,  
The Miller with his ●r●nding stones.  

you never saw the like sir.   
malt malt thou are a Flower,  
Beloved right well in e'●ry Bower,  
Thou canst not be missing one half hour,  

you never &c.    

For laying of his stones so close,  
malt gave the Miller a Copper nose,  
S●ying thou and I will never be foes  
but unto thee ●●le stick sir,  
malt gave the M●ller such a blow  
That from his horse be fell full low,  
He taught him his Master Malt to know,  

you never &c.    

Our hostess Maid was much to blame,  
To steal malt away from her Dame,  
And in her belly hid the same  

you never &c.    

That when the malt did work in her head  
Twice in a day she would be sped  
At night she could not go to bed,  
nor scarce stand on her feet sir.  
Then came in Master Smith,  
And said that malt he was a thief,  
But malt gave him such a bash in the tooth  

you never &c.    

For when his Iron was hot and red,  
He had such an ache all in his head,  
His boon Comrades got him to bed  

for he was very sick sir.   
The Carpenter came a piece to share  
And bid malt come if he dare,  
He'd thwack his sides and belly bare,  

and him full soundly beat sir.   
Toth' fire he went well armed with chips  
Malt hit him right betwixt the lips  
And made him lame on both his hips,  

you never, &c.    

The shoemaker sitting on his seat  
At Mr. Malt began to fret,  
He said he would the knave so beat  

with his sharp Spanish knife sir.   
But malt came peeping through the hall,  
And did his brains so fiercely maul  
He tumbled round and caught a fall  

you never, etc,    

The Weaver sitting in the Loom,  
He threatened malt a cruel doom  
And made him to expulce the room  
or throw him in a Dike sir.  
Where at a Court some Weavers kept  
And so their Hostess boldly stepped,  
Till charged with double pots they slept  

you never &c.    

The Tinker took the Weavers part  
Such furious rage possessed his heart,  
He took the pot and drank a quart,  

his wits were very ripe sir.   
For malt the upper hand so got  
He knew not how to pay the shot  
But part without the reckoning pot,  

and sound his stomach sick sir.   
The tailor came to grind his shears  
And shows to malt what spleen be hears  
But soon they f●ll together by the ears,  
and sore each other struck sir.  
And when his pressing Iron was hot  
He pressed a board instead of a Coat  
And sailed home in a featherbed boat  

you never, etc,    

The Tinker walking round the pan,  
But malt much feared his deep mouthed-can  
Though he had conquered many man  

and laid him in the Dike sir.   
Yet was the Tinker gladly fain  
With malt to have a bout or twain  
Till he again was shot i'th' brain,  

you never &c.    

Then bespoke the Tinker anon  
Ano said he'd prove himself a man,  
And laid at malt till his legs were gone.  

you never &c.    

The Say●or he did curse and ban  
He bid the bop so tap the can  
I'll have about with malt anon.  

you never &c.    

A board they went to try the match,  
And long they played at hope and catch,  
Till Mau●t bestowed him under a hatch,  

you never, &c.    

Then came a Chapman travelling by▪  
With cheaping long his throat was dry.  
And at Master Malt must fly,  

and furiously him struck sir.   
Till having laid at malt apace.  
Great store of blood was in his face  
And he was found in such a case,  

you never &c.    

The Mason came an Oden to make,  
The Bricklayer he his part did take  
They bound him to the good Ale stake  

you never, &c.    

Then malt began to tell his mind  
And plied them with Ale, Beer, and Wine  
They left the Brick, Axe, Trowel behind,  

they could not lay a Brick sir.   
Then came the labourer in his hood,  
And saw his two Masters how they stood  
He took Master Malt by the hood;  

and swore he would him strike sir.   
Malt he ran and for fear did weep,  
The labourer he did skip' and leap.  
But malt made him into the mortar leap.  

and there he fell asleep sir.   
The Glover came to buy a skin,  
Malt bit him right above the chin  
The Pewter-John came tumbling in,  

you never &c.    

And laid on heads and arms and joints  
Took away Gloves and a gross of points  
And swore they'd pay him in quarts and pints  

you never &c.    

Thus of my Song I'll make on end,  
And pray my Host to be my friend,  
To give me some drink or money to spend  

for malt and I am quiet sir,     

Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere and W. 〈◊〉