The Beauties of Burn's Poems/John Barleycorn
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For other versions of this work, see John Barleycorn (Burns).
Divider from 'The Beauties of Burn's Poems' a chapbook printed in Falkirk in 1819 
Divider from 'The Beauties of Burn's Poems' a chapbook printed in Falkirk in 1819
SONGS.
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John Barleycorn[1].
A BALLAD.
There were three Kings into the east,
Three Kings baith great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath,
John Barleycorn should die.
Three Kings baith great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath,
John Barleycorn should die.
They took a plow and plow'd him down,
Put clods upon his head;
And they hae sworn a solemn oath,
John Barleycorn was dead.
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 gat up again,
And sore surpriz'd them all!
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn gat up again,
And sore surpriz'd them all!
The sultry Suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong,
His head well arm'd with pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.
And he grew thick and strong,
His head well arm'd with 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.
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.
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 ty'd him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.
And cut him by the knee;
Then ty'd him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.
They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgel'd him full sore:
They laid him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er' and oʻer.
And cudgel'd him full sore:
They laid him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er' and oʻer.
The filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim,
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.
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.
To work him farther woe;
And still as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.
They wasted, oʻer a scorching flame,
The marrow of his banes;
But a Miller us'd his worst of all,
For he crush't him 'tween twa stanes!
The marrow of his banes;
But a Miller us'd his worst of all,
For he crush't him 'tween twa stanes!
And they have taen his very heart's blood,
And drunk it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound!
And drunk 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!
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 joys!
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' tear were in her eye.
'Twill heighten all his joys!
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' 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.
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland.
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- ↑ This is partly composed on the plan of an old song known by the same name.