John Barleycorn: A Ballad

5They took a plough and plough’d him down,

6 Put clods upon his head,

7And they hae sworn a solemn oath

8 John Barleycorn was dead.

9But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,

10 And show’rs began to fall;

11John Barleycorn got up again,

12 And sore surpris’d them all.

13The sultry suns of Summer came,

14 And he grew thick and strong;

15His head weel arm’d wi’ pointed spears,

16 That no one should him wrong.

17The sober Autumn enter’d mild,

18 When he grew wan and pale;

19His bending joints and drooping head

20 Show’d he began to fail.

21His colour sicken’d more and more,

22 He faded into age;

23And then his enemies began

24 To show their deadly rage.

25They’ve taen a weapon, long and sharp,

26 And cut him by the knee;

27Then tied him fast upon a cart,

28 Like a rogue for forgerie.

29They laid him down upon his back,

30 And cudgell’d him full sore;

31They hung him up before the storm,

32 And turned him o’er and o’er.

33They filled up a darksome pit

34 With water to the brim;

35They heaved in John Barleycorn,

36 There let him sink or swim.

37They laid him out upon the floor,

38 To work him farther woe;

39And still, as signs of life appear’d,

40 They toss’d him to and fro.

41They wasted, o’er a scorching flame,

42 The marrow of his bones;

43But a miller us’d him worst of all,

44 For he crush’d him between two stones.

45And they hae taen his very heart’s blood,

46 And drank it round and round;

47And still the more and more they drank,

48 Their joy did more abound.

49John Barleycorn was a hero bold,

50 Of noble enterprise;

51For if you do but taste his blood,

52 ’Twill make your courage rise.

53’Twill make a man forget his woe;

54 ’Twill heighten all his joy;

55’Twill make the widow’s heart to sing,

56 Tho’ the tear were in her eye.

57Then let us toast John Barleycorn,

58 Each man a glass in hand;

59And may his great posterity

60 Ne’er fail in old Scotland!