John Barleycorn

There were three men came out of the west, their fortunes for to find
And these three men made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn must die
They've plowed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in, thrown clods upon his head
And these 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 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 pierced 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 unto a barn
And these three men made a solemn oath on poor John Barleycorn
They've hired men with their crabtree sticks to cut him skin from bone
And the miller 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

(Trad.)

As recorded on #112 "In Person"

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