Social Harmony; or, the Cheerful Songster's Companion, Song

When the chill Sirocco blows, And winter tells a heavy tale; When 'pyes and daws, and rooks and crows, Do fit and curse the frost and snows. Then give me ale! Stout brown ale, nut brown-ale,— O give me nut brown ale.

Ale in a Saxon rumkin then, Such as will make a Grimalkin prate, Bids valour burgeon in all men; Quickens the poet's wit and pen; Despises fate— Old brown ale, nut-brown ale, O give me stout brown ale.

Ale that the plowman's heart up keeps, And equals it to tyrant's thrones, That wipes the eye which over weeps, And lulls in sweet and dainty sleeps The wearied bones. Old brown ale, nut brown ale— O give me stout brown ale.