John Barleycorn

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    There were three men came out of the west 
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    Their fortunes for to try 
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    And these three men made a solemn vow 
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    John Barleycorn must die 
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    They've plowed, they've sown, the've harrowed him in 
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    Threw clods upon his head 
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    And these three men were satisfied 
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    John Barleycorn was dead 

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    They let him lie for a very long time 
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    Till the rains from heaven did fall 
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    And little Sir John sprung up his head 
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    And so amazed them all 
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    They let him stand 'til mid summer's day 
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    'til he looked both pale and worn 
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    And little Sir John's grown a long, long beard 
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    And so become a man 


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    They've hired men with scythes so sharp 
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    To cut him off at the knee 
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    They rolled him and tied him by the waist 
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    Serving him most barbarously 
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    They've hired men with sharp pitch forks 
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    Who pricked him to the heart... 
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    And the loader he has served him worse than that 
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    For he's bound him to the cart 

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    They've wheeled him around and around in the field 
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    'til they came onto a barn 
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    And there they made a solemn oath 
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    On poor John Barleycorn 
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    They've hired men with the crab tree sticks 
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    to cut him skin from bone 
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    And the miller he has served him worse than that 
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    For he's ground him between two stones 


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    And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl 
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    And he's brandy in the glass 
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    And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl 
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    Proved the strongest man at last 
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    The huntsman, he can't hunt the fox 
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    Nor so loudly blow his horn 
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    And the Tinker he can't mend kettle nor pots 
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    Without a little Barlycorn