Ye fanciful folk, for whom Physic prescribes,
Whom bolus and potion have harrass’d to death!
Ye wretches, whom Law and her ill-looking tribes,
Have hunted about ’till you’re quite out of breath!
Here’s shelter and ease,
No craving for fees,
No danger--no doctor--no bailiff is near!
Your spirits this raises,
It cures your diseases,
There’s freedom and health in our Newcastle beer.