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JOHN BARLEYCORN
There were three men come out of the west
Their victory to try
And those three men took a solemn vow
John Barleycorn must die
They plowed, they sowed, they harrowed him in
Throwed clods upon his head
And those three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn was dead
They let him lie for a very long time 'til the rains from heaven
did fall
And little Sir John sprung up his head
And so amazed them all,
They let him stand til the midsummer's day
'Til he looked both pale and wan
And Little Sir John's grown a long, long beard
And so became a man.
They hired men with the scythes so sharp to cut him off at the knee
They rolled him and tied him around the waist and served him barbarously
They hired men with the hard pitchfork
To pierce him through the heart
And the loader he has served him worse than that
For he bound him to a cart
They wheeled him round and around the field 'til they came unto
a barn
And these three men made a solemn oath on poor John Barleycorn
They hired men with the holly club
To flay him skin from bone
And the miller he served him worse than that
For he ground him between two stones
Here's Little Sir John in a nut brown bowl
And brandy in the glass
And Little Sir John in the nut brown bowl
Proved the stronger man at last
For the huntsman he can't hunt the fox
Nor so loudly blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend kettle nor pot
Without a little of the Barleycorn.
TRAFFIC
- John Barleycorn Must Die |
