John Barleycorn Songtext
von Roy Bailey
John Barleycorn Songtext
Two hirèd men came from the north, their victory to try
And there they made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn should die
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
They plowed the ground, they harrowed him in
Threw clods upon his head
Then there they did rejoice and sing, "John Barleycorn is dead"
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
There he lay all underground
′Til rain on him did fall
Then Barleycorn sprung up again
And so he done them all
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
There he stood 'til the midsummer
′Til he grew both pale and wan
And Barleycorn, he grew a long beard
And so became a man
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
They hirèd men with the scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the knee
And the women with their hooks and rakes
They served him barbarously
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
They hirèd men with the prongs so sharp
To stab him to the heart
And like a thief or felon
They did bind him to a cart
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
They wheeled him around and around the fields
'Til they came into a barn
And there they made a moat of him
To keep him from all harm
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
Then hirèd men with the long staffs came
To beat him skin from bone
But the miller he served him worse than that
For he ground him between two stones
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
Right fol the diddle of the day
Put brandy in a keg, me boys
Put cider in a can
But Barleycorn in an old brown bowl
Will floor the strongest man
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
He'll turn your gold to silver
And your silver into brass
He′ll make a boy become a man
And a man become an ass
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
And there they made a solemn vow, John Barleycorn should die
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
They plowed the ground, they harrowed him in
Threw clods upon his head
Then there they did rejoice and sing, "John Barleycorn is dead"
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
There he lay all underground
′Til rain on him did fall
Then Barleycorn sprung up again
And so he done them all
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
There he stood 'til the midsummer
′Til he grew both pale and wan
And Barleycorn, he grew a long beard
And so became a man
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
They hirèd men with the scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the knee
And the women with their hooks and rakes
They served him barbarously
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
They hirèd men with the prongs so sharp
To stab him to the heart
And like a thief or felon
They did bind him to a cart
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
They wheeled him around and around the fields
'Til they came into a barn
And there they made a moat of him
To keep him from all harm
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
Then hirèd men with the long staffs came
To beat him skin from bone
But the miller he served him worse than that
For he ground him between two stones
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
Right fol the diddle of the day
Put brandy in a keg, me boys
Put cider in a can
But Barleycorn in an old brown bowl
Will floor the strongest man
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
He'll turn your gold to silver
And your silver into brass
He′ll make a boy become a man
And a man become an ass
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
To me right fol the dah, the diddle of the day
To me right fol the diddle of the day
Writer(s): - Dp, Jacqui Mcshee, Tony Roberts, John Renbourn, Keshav Sathe, Sue Draheim Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
