John Barleycorn (Live)

歌詞

Oh there were three men came out of the west Their fortunes for to try, And these three men made a solemn vow: John Barleycorn should die. They ploughed, they sowed, they harrowed him in, Throwed clods upon his head. Then these three men made a solemn vow: John Barleycorn was dead. They let him lie for a very long time Till the rain from heaven did fall. Then little Sir John he raised up his head And he soon amazed them all. They let him lie till the long midsummer Till he looked both pale and wan. Then little Sir John growed a long, long beard And so became a man. They hired men with the scythes so sharp To cut him off down by the knee. They rolled him and tied him around by the waist, Served him most barbarously. They hired men with the sharp pitchforks Who pierced him to the heart. But the loader, he served him far worse than that For he bound him to the cart. They rode him around and around the field Till they came into a barn, And there they made a solemn mow Of poor John Barleycorn. They hired men with the crab-tree sticks Who cut him skin from bone But the miller, he served him far worse than that For he ground him between two stones. Here's little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl And brandy in a glass. And little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl Proved the stronger man at last. For the hunter, he can't hunt the fox Nor so loudly blow his horn, And the tinker, he can't mend his kettles or his pots Without a little bit of John Barleycorn.