There were three men came out of the West,

Their fortunes for to try,

And these three men made a solemn vow:

John Barleycorn must die.



They�ve ploughed, they�ve sewn, they�ve harrowed him in,

Threw clods at Barley�s head,

And these three men made a solemn vow:

John Barleycorn was dead.



They�ve let him lie for a very long time,

�Till the rains from heaven did fall,

And little Sir John sprung up his head,

And so amazed them all.



They�ve let him stand �till midsummer�s day,

�Till he looked both pale and worn,

And little Sir John�s grown a long, long beard,

And so become a man.



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,

Servin� him most barbarously.



They�ve hired men with the sharp pitchforks,

Who pricked him to the heart,

And the loader he has served him worse than that,

For he�s bound him to the cart



They�ve wheeled him around and around the field,

�Till they came unto a barn,

And there they made a solemn oath,

On 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.



And little Sir John and the nut-brown bowl,

And he�s brandy in the glass;

And little Sir John and the nut-brown bowl,

Proved the strongest man at last.



The huntsman, he can�t hunt the fox,

Nor so loudly to blow his horn,

And the tinker he can�t mend kettle nor pots,

Without a little Barleycorn