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5
And many a man did talk,
that Barleycorn muſt die
His enemies increaſe ſo faſt,
at board and eke at bed,
I fear their malice will not ceaſe
till they cut off his head.
For Smut the honeſt blackſmith
with many tradeſmen more;
And Snip the nimble taylor,
doth vow he'll live no more.
And Will the Weaver doth complain
and many thouſands more
I hope their labour is in vain,
Therefore they may not roar.
Yet now a while give ear,
you that are ſtanders by,
And you preſently ſhall hear
Sir John condemn'd to die.
All you that love poor Barleycorn,
a good word for him give,
And he that ſpeaks againſt him,
I wiſh he may not live.
