Fairport Convention John Barleycorn Lyrics

There were three men come out of the west, their
fortunes for to try And these three men made a
solemn vow, John Barleycorn would die They've
ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed, thrown
clods upon his head Till these three men were
satisfied John Barleycorn was dead (Chorus)
There's beer all in the barrel and brandy in the
glass But little Sir John, with his nut-brown
bowl, proved the strongest man at last

They've let him lie for a long long time till the rains from heaven did fall And little Sir John sprang up his
head and so amazed them all They've let him stand
till midsummer's day and he looks both pale and
wan Then little Sir John's grown a long long beard
and so become a man

They've hired men with the sharp-edged scythes to cut him off at the knee They've rolled him and tied him
around the waist, treated him most barbarously
They've hired men with the sharp-edged forks to
p____ him to the heart And the loader has served
him worse than that for he's bound him to the cart
So they've wheeled him around and around the field
till they've come unto a barn And here they've
kept their solemn word concerning Barleycorn
They've hired men with the crabtree sticks to
split him skin from bone And the miller has served
him worse than that for he's ground him between
two stones

And the huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor loudly blow his horn And the tinker he can't mend his pots without John Barleycorn