John Barleycorn Songtext
von Gordon Bok, Ann Muir, and Ed Trickett

As I was ploughing in my field
The hungriest furrow ever torn
Followed my plough and she did cry
Have you seen my mate John Barleycorn?
Says I has he got a yellow beard
Is he always whispering night and morn?
Does he up and dance when the wind is high?
Says she that′s my John Barleycorn
One day they took a cruel knife
A why and weary and all forlorn
They struck him at his golden prayer
And they killed my priest John Barleycorn
They laid him on a wooden cart
Of all his summer glory shorn
Then threshers broke with stick and stave
The shining bones of Barleycorn
The miller's stone went round and round
They rolled him underneath with scorn
The miller filled a hundred sacks
With the crushed pride of John Barleycorn


The baker came by and bought his dust
That was a mad man I′ll be sworn
He burned my hero in a rage
Of twisting flames my Barleycorn
A brewer came by and stole his heart
Alas that I was ever born
He thrust it in a brimming vat
And he drowned my dear John Barleycorn
And now I travel narrow roads
My hungry feet are dark and worn
But no one in this winter world
Has seen my dancer Barleycorn
I took a bannet from my bag
Lord how her empty mouth did yawn
Says I your starving days are done
For here's your lost John Barleycorn
I took a bottle from my pouch
And poured a whiskey in a horn
Says I put by your grief
For here is the merry blood of Barleycorn
She ate she drank she laughed she danced
And home with me she did return
By candlelight in my old straw bed
She wept no more for Barleycorn