John Barleycorn

There were three men came out of the west

Their fortunes for to try

And these three men made a solemn vow

John Barleycorn must die

They've plowed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in

Threw clods upon his head

And these three men made a solemn vow

John Barleycorn was dead

They've 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've let him stand till Midsummer's Day

'Til he looked both pale and wan

And little Sir John's grown a long long beard

And so become a man

They've hired men with their scythes so sharp

To cut him off at the knee

They've rolled him and tied him by the way

Serving him most barbarously

They've hired men with their sharp pitchforks

Who've pricked him to the heart

And the loader, he has served him worse than that

For he's bound him to the cart

They've wheeled him around and around a field

'Til they came onto a pond

And there they made a solemn oath

On poor John Barleycorn

They've hired men with their crab tree sticks

To cut him skin from bone

And the miller, he has served him worse than that

For he's ground him between two stones

And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl

And his brandy in the glass

And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl

Proved the strongest man at last

The huntsman he can't hunt the fox

Nor so loudly to blow his horn

And the tinker he can't mend kettle nor pots

Without a little barleycorn