John Barleycorn Lyrics

John Barleycorn
Traditional folk song; this version is on the Traffic LP of the same name.
I've tried to capitalize in the correct style, but it's just a guess.


There were Three Men came out of the West,
Their fortunes for to try.
And these Three Men made a solemn Vow,
John Barleycorn must die.

They've plowed, They've sown, They've harrowed him in,
Thrown clods upon his head.
And these Three Men made a solemn Vow,
John Barleycorn was dead.

They've let him lie for a very long time,
'Til the rains from Heaven did fall.
And little Sir John sprung up his head,
And so amazed Them all.

They've let him stand 'til Midsummer's Day,
'Til he looked both pale and wan.
And little Sir John's grown a long, long beard,
And so become a man.

They've hired men with their scythes so sharp,
To cut him off at the knees.
They've rolled him and tied him by the waist,
Serving him most barb'rously.

They've hired men with their sharp pitchforks,
Who pricked him to the Heart.
And the Loader, he has served him worse than that,
For he's bound him to the cart.

They've wheeled him around and around a field,
'Til They came unto a barn.
And there They made a solemn Oath,
On poor John Barleycorn.

They've hired men with their crab-tree sticks,
To cord him skin from bone,.
And the Miller, he has served him worse than that,
For he's ground him between two stones.

And little Sir John and the nutbrown bowl,
And his brandy in the glass.
And little Sir John and the nutbrown bowl,
Proved the strongest man at last.

The Huntsman, he can't hunt the fox
Nor so loudly to blow his horn.
And the Tinker, he can't mend kettle nor pots,
Without a little barleycorn.


Transcribed by Rich Kulawiec, rsk@ecn.purdue.edu