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