John Barleycorn

JOHN BARLEYCORN

Now, there came three men out of Kent my boys For to plough for wheat and rye And they made a vow and a solemn vow John Barleycorn must die.

So, they ploughed him deep in the furrow And they sowed rye o’er his head And these three men home rejoicing went, John Barleycorn was dead.

But, the sun shone warm and the wind blew soft And it rained in a day or so John Barleycorn felt the wind and the rain And soon began to grow

But the rye began to grow as well; The rye grew slow but tall But John Barleycorn he grew short and quick And he proved them liars all

So, they hired men with sickles To cut him off at the knee And worst of all, John Barleycorn, They served him barbarously.

For, they hired men with pikels, To toss him on to a load, And when they’d tossed John Barleycorn They tied him down with cords.

Then, they hired men with thrashels To beat him high and low They came smick smack upon poor Jack's back Till the flesh began to flow.

Then, they put him in to the kiln me boys, Thinking to dry his bones And when he came out, John Barleycorn, They crushed him between two stones.

Then, they put him in to the mashing tub, Thinking to burn his tail, And when he came out they’d changed his name, For they called him home-brewed ale.

So, put your wine in glasses, Your cider in pewter cans Put John Barleycorn in the old brown jug, For he proved the strongest man.

To my ri-fol-airy, fol-the-diddle ay To my ri-fol-airey oh To my ri-fol-airy, fol-the-diddle ay To my ri-fol-airey oh

Recording by Fred Jordan on ‘A Shropshire Lad’ Veteran VTD148CD

Reference: Schofield D (2007) John Barleycorn: as sung by Fred Jordan Magazine of the English Folk Dance and Song Society Spring 2007 p9.