John Barleycorn: A Ballad
john barleycorn: a ballad
there was three kings into the east,
three kings both great and high,
and they hae sworn a solemn oath
john barleycorn should die.
they took a plough and plough'd him down,
put clods upon his head,
and they hae sworn a solemn oath
john barleycorn was dead.
but the cheerful spring came kindly on,
and show'rs began to fall;
john barleycorn got up again,
and sore surpris'd them all.
the sultry suns of summer came,
and he grew thick and strong;
his head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
that no one should him wrong.
the sober autumn enter'd mild,
when he grew wan and pale;
his bending joints and drooping head
show'd he began to fail.
his colour sicken'd more and more,
he faded into age;
and then his enemies began
to show their deadly rage.
they've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
and cut him by the knee;
then tied him fast upon a cart,
like a rogue for forgerie.
they laid him down upon his back,
and cudgell'd him full sore;
they hung him up before the storm,
and turned him o'er and o'er.
they filled up a darksome pit
with water to the brim;
they heaved in john barleycorn,
there let him sink or swim.
they laid him out upon the floor,
to work him farther woe;
and still, as signs of life appear'd,
they toss'd him to and fro.
they wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
the marrow of his bones;
but a miller us'd him worst of all,
for he crush'd him between two stones.
and they hae taen his very heart's blood,
and drank it round and round;
and still the more and more they drank,
their joy did more abound.
john barleycorn was a hero bold,
of noble enterprise;
for if you do but taste his blood,
'twill make your courage rise.
'twill make a man forget his woe;
'twill heighten all his joy;
'twill make the widow's heart to sing,
tho' the tear were in her eye.
then let us toast john barleycorn,
each man a glass in hand;
and may his great posterity
ne'er fail in old scotland!