Barleycorn

There were three farmers in the north,
as they were passing by they swore an oath so mighty
oh that Barleycorn should die
one of them said: drown him
and the other sad: hang him high
for whoever will stick to Barleycorn
a-begging he will die
they put poor Barley into a sack
an a cold an rainy day
and took him out to cornfields
and buried him in the clay
frost and snow began to melt
and dew began to fall
when Barleygrain put up his head
and he soon surprised them all
being in the summer season
and the harvest coming on it’s the time he stands up in the field with a beard like any man
the reaper then came with his sickle
and used me barbarously
he cut me in the middle so small
and he cut me above the knee
the next came was the binder
and he looked at me with a frown
for in the middle there was a thistle
which pulled his courage down
the farmer came with his pitch fork
and he pierced me to the heart
like a thief, a rogue or a highwayman
they tied me to the cart
the thresher came with his big flail
and soon he broke my bones
could grieve the heart of any man
to hear my sighs and moans
the next thing that they’ve done
to me they steeped me in the well
they left me there for a day
and night until I began to swell
and next thing that they’ve done
to me they dried me in a kiln
they used me ten times worse,
than that they ground me in the mill
they used me in the kichen,
they used me in the hall
oh they used me in the parlour
among the ladies all
the Barleygrain is a comical grain,
it makes men sigh and moan
for when they drink a glass or two
they forget their wives and home
the drunkard is a dirty man,
he used me worst of all
he drank me up in his dirty mouth
an he tumbled against the wall