JOHN BARLEYCORN: A BALLAD
(Robert Burns)
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 bendin 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;
They ty'd 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 turn'd him o'er and o'er
They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim,
They heav'd in John Barleycorn-
There, let him sink or swim!
They laid him 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 atones
And they hae taen his very hero 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!
TUNE: Lull me beyond thee
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