  They sell good Beer at Haslemere And under Guildford Hill. At Little Cowfold as I’ve been told A beggar may drink his fill: There is a good brew in Amberley too, And by the bridge also; But the swipes they take in at Washington Inn Is the very best Beer I know. Chorus With my here it goes, there it goes, All the fun’s before us: The Tipple’s Aboard and the night is young, The door’s ajar and the Barrel is sprung, I am singing the best song ever was sung And it has a rousing chorus. If I were what I never can be, The master or the squire: If you gave me the hundred from here to the sea, Which is more than I desire: Then all my crops should be barley and hops, And did my harvest fail I’d sell every rood of mine acres I would For a belly-full of good Ale. Chorus With my here it goes, there it goes, All the fun’s before us: The Tipple’s aboard and the night is young, The door’s ajar and the Barrel is sprung, I am singing the best song ever was sung And it has a rousing chorus. |
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