John Barleycorn

There were three men
 Who came out of the West
 Their fortunes for to try
 And these three men made a solemn vow
 John Barleycorn must die
 They plowed they sowed they harrowed him in
 Threw clod upon his head
 And these three men made a solemn vow
 John Barelycorn was dead
 The 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 let him lie 'til midsummer
 'Til he grew both pale and wan
 And little Sir John grew a long sharp beard
 And so became a man
 They hired men with a scythe so sharp
 To cut him off at the knee
 They rolled him and tied him around the waste
 And used him so barbarously
 They hired men with sharp pitchforks
 To pierce him to the heart
 And the loader he treated him
 Worse than that
 For he tied him onto a cart
 The wheeled him around and around the field
 'Til they came unto a barn
 And there they made a solemn mow
 Of poor John Barleycorn
 They hired men with crabtree sticks
 To rip him skin from bone
 And the miller he treated him worst of all
 For he ground him between two stones
 There's little Sir John in the nut brown bowl
 And brandy in the glass
 And little Sir John in the nut brown bowl
 Proved the stronger man at last
 And the huntsman he can't hunt the fox
 Or proudly blow his horn
 And the tinker can't mend his kettles or his pots
 Without a little of the barleycorn