from English and Scottish folklore
There were three men come out of the West, their fortunes for to try,
And these three men made a solemn vow: John Barleycorn should die!
John Barleycorn should die!
They plowed, they sowed, they harrowed him in, Threw clods upon his head,
And these three men made a solemn vow: John Barleycorn was dead!
CHORUS: Fa la la la, it’s a lovely day!
Sing fa la la lay oh!
Fa la la la, it’s a lovely day!
Sing fa la la lay oh!
They let him lie for a very long time ‘Til the rain from Heaven did fall,
Then Little Sir John sprung up his head, And so amazed them all!
They let him stand ’til Midsummer tide, ‘Til he grew both pale and wan,
Then Little Sir John he grew a long beard, And so became a man!
CHORUS
They hired men with their scythes so sharp To cut him off at the knee
They rolled him and tied him about the waist, And used him barbarously!
They hired men with the sharp pitchforks To pierce him to the heart,
And the loader he served him worse than that, For he tied him in a cart!
CHORUS
They wheeled him around and around the field, ‘Til they came to a barn,
And there they made a solemn mow Of poor John Barleycorn,
They hired men with the crab-tree sticks To strip him skin from bone
And the Miller he served him worse than that: For he ground him between two stones!
CHORUS
They have wheeled him here and wheeled him there And wheeled him to a barn,
And they have served him worse than that They have bunged him in a vat!
They have worked their will on John Barleycorn But he lived to tell the tale;
For they pour him out of an old brown jug, And they call him home-brewed ale!
CHORUS
Here’s Little Sir John in a nut-brown bowl, And brandy in a glass!
And Little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl Proved the stronger man at last!
For the huntsman he can’t hunt the fox Nor loudly blow his horn,
And the tinker can’t mend kettles nor pots Without John Barleycorn!
CHORUS (IF NEEDED)