John Barleycorn
Robert Burns
1759 to 1796
Track 1
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For he crush'd him between two stones.
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.
They toss'd him to and fro.
That no one should him wrong.
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Their joy did more abound.
John Barleycorn got up again,
'Twill make your courage rise
But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
Tho' the tear were in her eye.
And show'rs began to fall;
And turned him o'er and o'er.
Show'd he began to fail.
Each man a glass in hand;
For if you do but taste his blood,
With water to the brim;
The sultry suns of Summer came,
Of noble enterprise;
To work him farther woe;
And drank it round and round;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore;
And cut him by the knee;
There let him sink or swim.
Put clods upon his head,
They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
And sore surpris'd them all.
To show their deadly rage.
And he grew thick and strong;
And still the more and more they drank,
They laid him out upon the floor,
'Twill make a man forget his woe;
Three kings both great and high,
His colour sicken'd more and more,
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
There was three kings into the east,
And may his great posterity
The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
They took a plough and plough'd him down,
They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
They hung him up before the storm,
The marrow of his bones;
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
He faded into age;
When he grew wan and pale;
'Twill heighten all his joy;
John Barleycorn was dead.
And then his enemies began
Like a rogue for forgerie.
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
His bending joints and drooping head
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!
They filled up a darksome pit