John Barleycorn

by British folk song , Traffic

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There were three men come out of the west
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Their for-tunes for to try
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And these three men made a sol-emn vow
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John Bar-ley-corn must die

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They ploughed they sowed they har-rowed him in
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Throwed clods u-pon his head
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And these three men made a sol-emn vow
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John Bar-ley-corn was dead

They've let him lie for a ve-ry long time
Til the rains from hea-ven did fall
And lit-tle Sir John sprung up his head
And so am-azed them all 

They let him stand til mid-sum-mers day
Til he looked both pale and wan
And Lit-tle Sir John's grown a long long beard
And so be-came a man

They've hired men with scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the knee
They rolled and tied him by the way
Serv-ing him so bar-bar-ous-ly

They've hired men with pitch-forks
Who've prick-ed him in the heart
And the load-er he has serv-ed him worse than that
For he has bound him to the cart
They-ve wheel-ed him a'-round and a-round a field
Til they came on-to a pond
And there they made a sol-emn oath 
On poor John Bar-ley-corn

They hired men with crab-tree sticks
To cut him skin from bone
And the miller hhe has ser'ved him worse than that
For he's ground him be-tween two stones

And lit-tle Sir John and the nut-brown bowl
And his brand-y in the glass
And lit-tle Sir John and the nut-brown bowl
Proved the strong-est man at last

The hunts-man he can't hunt the fox
Nor so loud-ly blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend a ket-tle or pots
With-out a lit-tle bar-ley-corn

C