John Barleycorn

There were three men came from the west Their fortunes for to try And these three men made a solemn vow John Barleycorn should die

So they ploughed and sowed and harrowed him in Throwed clats upon his head And three men made a solemn vow John Barleycorn was dead

Then they let him lay for a long time Till rain from heaven did fall And little Sir John sprang up his head And he amazed them all.

Then they let him stand for a long time And he grew both pale and wan And little Sir John grew with a long beard And so he became a man.

They hired men with scythes so sharp To cut him off at the knee And the loader he served him worse than that For he served him most barbarously.

Then they dragged him round and round the field Till they came unto a barn And there they made a solemn mow Of poor John Barleycorn.

They hired men with crab-tree sticks They cut him skin from bone And the miller he served him worse than that For he ground him between two stones.

Now here's little Sir John in a nut-brown bowl And brandy in a glass And here's little Sir John in a nut-brown bowl He’ll slay the strongest man at last.

For the huntsman he can’t hunt the fox Nor loudly blow his horn Nor the tinker he can’t mend kettles or pots Without little Lord Barleycorn.