Let me tell a tale of my father's kin For his blood runs through my veins No man's been born that could best John Barleycorn For he's suffered many pains He's suffered many pains
We've buried him well beneath the ground And they've covered over his head And these men from the west did solemnly attest John Barleycorn was dead John Barleycorn was dead
But the warm spring rains came a-pouring down And John Barleycorn arose And upon that ground he stood without a sound Till he began to grow Till he began to grow
They've hired a man with a knife so sharp For to cut him through the knees And they've pitched Barleycorn and tied him down with thorn And served him barbarously They've served him barbarously
And they've hired some men with crabtree sticks For to beat him high and low And the skin on his back they then began to smack Till the place began to blow The place began to blow
And they've ground his bones in between two stones And they've served him worse than that For they've tossed him into an oaken mashing bin And sealed him in a vat They've sealed him in a vat
But John Barleycorn proved the stoutest man Though they did all that they could So raise up your horn and praise to Barleycorn And we shall drink his blood Yes, we shall drink his blood!Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
