II. They took a plough and plough'd him down, Put clods upon his head, And they hae sworn a solemn oath John Barleycorn was dead. III. But the cheerful spring came kindly on, IV. The sultry suns of summer came, V. The sober autumn enter'd mild, When he grew wan and pale; His bending joints and drooping head VI. His colour sicken'd more and more, He faded into age; And then his enemies began To shew their deadly rage, VII. They've taen a weapon, long and sharp, And cut him by the knee; Then ty'd him fast upon a cart, Like a rogue for forgerie, VIII. They laid him down upon his back, IX. They filled up a darksome pit They heaved in John Barleycorn, There let him sink or swim. 5 X. They laid him out upon the floor, XI. They wasted, o'er a scorching flame, But a miller us'd him worst of all, For he crush'd him between two stones. XII. And they hae ta'en his very heart's blood, And drank it round and round; And still the more and more they drank, Their joy did more abound. XIII. John Barleycorn was a hero bold, For if you do but taste his blood, 'Twill make your courage rise. |