Fairport Convention - John Barleycorn Lyrics
There were three men come out of the west, their fortunes for to tryAnd these three men made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn would dieThey've ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed, thrown clods upon his headTill these three men were satisfied John Barleycorn was dead(Chorus)There's beer all in the barrel and brandy in the glassBut little Sir John, with his nut-brown bowl, proved the strongest man at lastThey've let him lie for a long long time till the rains from heaven did fallAnd little Sir John sprang up his head and so amazed them allThey've let him stand till midsummer's day and he looks both pale and wanThen little Sir John's grown a long long beard and so become a man(Chorus)(Chorus)They've hired men with the sharp-edged scythes to cut him off at the kneeThey've rolled him and tied him around the waist, treated him most barbarouslyThey've hired men with the sharp-edged forks to prick him to the heartAnd the loader has served him worse than that for he's bound him to the cartSo they've wheeled him around and around the field till they've come unto a barnAnd here they've kept their solemn word concerning BarleycornThey've hired men with the crabtree sticks to split him skin from boneAnd the miller has served him worse than that for he's ground him between two stones(Chorus)(Chorus)And the huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor loudly blow his hornAnd the tinker he can't mend his pots without John Barleycorn
