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
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 prick 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