John Barleycorn: A Ballad
john barleycorn: a ballad there was three kings into the east, three kings both great and high, and they hae sworn a 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 cheerful spring came kindly on, and show'rs began to fall; john barleycorn got up again, and sore surpris'd 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 taen 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 cudgell'd him full sore; they hung him up before the storm, and turned him o'er 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 toss'd 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 crush'd him between two stones. and they hae taen his very heart's blood, and drank 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 the 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!