John Barleycorn

There was three men come out of the west
Their fortunes for to try,
And these three men made a solemn vow:
John Barleycorn should die.
They ploughed, they sowed, they harrowed him in,
Throwed clods upon his head.
And these three men made a solemn vow:
John Barleycorn was dead.

There were three men come out of the west
Their fortunes for to try,
And these three men made a solemn vow:
John Barleycorn should die.
They've ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in,
Throwed clods on his head.
And these three men made a solemn vow:
John Barleycorn was dead.

They let him lie for a very long time
Till the rain from heaven did fall,
And little Sir John sprung up his head
And that amazed them all.
They let him stand till midsummer
And he growed both pale and wan.
Then little Sir John, he growed a long beard
And so become a man.

They've let him lie for a very long time
Till the rain from hea'en did fall,
And little Sir John sprung up his head
And soon amazed them all.
They've let him stand till midsummer day
Till he looked both pale and wan.
And little Sir John's grown a long, long beard
And so become a man.

They hired men with the scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the knee.
And poor little Johnny Barleycorn
They served most barbarously.
They hired men with the sharp pitchforks
To pierce him to the heart.
And the loader, he served him worse than that
For he bound him to the cart.

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

They wheeled him all around the field
A prisoner to endure,
And in the barn poor Barleycorn
They laid him upon the floor.
They hired men with the crab tree sticks
To cut him skin from bone,
And the miller, he served him worse than that
For he ground him between two stones.

They've wheeled him round and around the field
Till they came into the barn
And there they've made a solemn mow
Of poor John Barleycorn.
They've hired men with the crab tree sticks
To cut him skin from bone,
And the miller, he has served him worse than that
For he's ground him between two stones.

I'll make a boy into a man,
A man into an ass.
I'll change your gold to silver, lass,
And your silver into brass.
I'll make the huntsman hunt the fox
With never a hound or horn.
I'll bring the tinker into gaol
Says old John Barleycorn.

Here's little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
And here's brandy in the glass
And little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
Proved the strongest man at last.
For the huntsman, he can't hunt the fox
Nor so loudly to blow his horn,
And the tinker, he can't mend kettles nor pots
Without a little barley corn.

Oh barley wine is the choicest drink
That was ever drunk on land.
It will make a man do miracles
By the turning of his hand.
You can tip your brandy in a glass,
Your whiskey in a can,
But barley corn and his nut-brown ale
Will prove the stronger man.

Oh there were three men came out of the west
Their fortunes for to try,
And these three men made a solemn vow:
John Barleycorn should die.
They ploughed, they sowed, they harrowed him in,
Throwed clods upon his head.
Then these three men made a solemn vow:
John Barleycorn was dead.

[spoken] There were three men
Came from the west
Their fortunes for to tell,
And the life of John Barleycorn as well.

They have laid him in three furrows deep,
Laid clods upon his head,
Then these three man made a solemn vow
𝄆 John Barleycorn was dead. 𝄇

They let him lie for a very long time
Till the rain from heaven did fall.
Then little Sir John he raised up his head
And he soon amazed them all.
They let him lie till the long midsummer
Till he looked both pale and wan.
Then little Sir John growed a long, long beard
And so became a man.

They let him lie for a very long time
Till the rain from heaven did fall,
Then little Sir John he sprang up his head
And 𝄆 he did amaze them all. 𝄇

And they let him stand till the midsummer day,
Till he looked both pale and wan.
The little Sir John he grew a long beard
And 𝄆 he so became a man. 𝄇

Chorus (from here on after every verse):

Fa la la la it's a lovely day
Sing fa la la leia
Fa la la la it's a lovely day
Singing fa la la leia

They hired men with the scythes so sharp
To cut him off down by the knee.
They rolled him and tied him around by the waist,
Served him most barbarously.
They hired men with the sharp pitchforks
Who pierced him to the heart.
But the loader, he served him far worse than that
For he bound him to the cart.

So they have hired men with the scythes so sharp,
To cut him off at the knee,
And they rolled him, they tied him around the waist,
𝄆 They've served him barbarously. 𝄇

They rode him around and around the field
Till they came into a barn,
And there they made a solemn mow
Of poor John Barleycorn.
They hired men with the crab-tree sticks
Who cut him skin from bone
But the miller, he served him far worse than that
For he ground him between two stones.

And they have hired men with the crab tree sticks,
To cut him skin from bone,
And the miller, he has served him worse than that,
𝄆 He ground him between two stones. 𝄇

Here's little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
And brandy in a glass.
And little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
Proved the stronger man at last.
For the hunter, he can't hunt the fox
Nor so loudly blow his horn,
And the tinker, he can't mend his kettles or his pots
Without a little bit of John Barleycorn.

And they have wheeled him here and they've wheeled him there,
They've wheeled him to a barn,
And they have served him worse than that,
𝄆 They've bunged him in a vat. 𝄇

Well, they have worked their will on John Barleycorn
But he lived to tell the tale,
For they pour him out of an old brown jug
And 𝄆 they call him home brewed ale. 𝄇