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THERE came three men from out the
West Their victory to try, And they have taken a solemn oath John Barleycorn should die. Sing ri fol lol, the diddle al the dee, Right fal leero dee. They took a plough and ploughed him in, Laid clods upon his head: And they have taken a solemn oath John Barleycorn is dead. So then he lay for a full fortnight Till the dew from heaven did fall: John Barleycorn sprung up again And that surprised them all. But when he faced the summer sun He looked both pale and wan, For all he had a spiky beard To shew he was a man. But soon came men with sickles sharp And chopped him to the knee. They rolled and tied him by the waist And served him barb'rously. With forks they stuck him to the heart And banged him over stones, And sent the men with holly clubs To batter at his bones. But Barleycorn has noble blood, It lives when it is shed. It turns a tinker to a lord It fills the empty head. It makes the widow's heart to sing, And it turns the coward bold: It fills the cupboard and the purse With bread and meat and gold. Sing ri fol lol, the diddle al the dee, Right fal leero dee. |
