73 lines
1.5 KiB
Plaintext
73 lines
1.5 KiB
Plaintext
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John Barleycorn - performed by Traffic
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There were three men,
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came out of the West.
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Their fortunes for to try.
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And these three men,
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made a solomn vow.
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John Barleycorn must die.
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They've plowed, they've sown,
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they've harrowed him in,
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threw clods upon his head.
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And these three men,
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Made a solomn vow.
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John Barleycorn was dead.
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They've let him lie a very long time,
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till the rains from Heavan 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've let him stand till mid summers day,
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till he looked both pale and drawn.
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And little Sir John has grown a long, long beard,
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And so become a man.
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They've hired men,
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with the scythes so sharp,
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to cut him off at the knee.
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They've rolled and tied him by the waist,
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serving him most barbarously.
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They've hired men,
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with a sharp pitchforks,
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who pricked him to the heart.
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An 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,
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and around the field,
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until they came unto a barn.
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And there they made a solomn oath,
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on poor John Barleycorn.
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They've hired men,
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with a crabtree sticks,
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to cut him skin from bone.
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And the miller he has served him worst of all,
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For he has 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 to so loudly to blow his horn.
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And the tinker he can't mend kettle nor pot,
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without a little Barleycorn.
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