Barleycorn's Lament Lyrics

There were three kings into the East
Three kings both great and high
And they had sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die

They took a plough and ploughed him down
Put clods upon his head
And they had sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on
And showers began to fall
John Barleycorn got up again
And sore surprised them all

The sultry suns of Summer came
And he grew thick and strong
His head well armed with pointed spears
That no one should him wrong

Ploughing – Cutting – Cudgelled and Slashed
Corn God – Barleycorn!
Hung and Scorched and Crushed to Dust
Corn God – Barleycorn!
Ploughing – Cutting – Cudgelled and Slashed
Corn God – Barleycorn!
Hung and Scorched and Crushed to Dust
Corn God – Barleycorn!

The sober Autumn entered mild
When he grew wan and pale
His bending joints and drooping head
Showed he began to fail

His colour sickened more and more
He faded into age
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage

They took a weapon, long and sharp
And cut him by the knee
Then tied him fast upon a cart
Like a rogue for forgery

They laid him down upon his back
And cudgelled him full sore
They hung him up before the storm
And turned him o’er and o’er

Ploughing – Cutting – Cudgelled and Slashed
Corn God – Barleycorn!
Hung and Scorched and Crushed to Dust
Corn God – Barleycorn!
Ploughing – Cutting – Cudgelled and Slashed
Corn God – Barleycorn!
Hung and Scorched and Crushed to Dust
Corn God – Barleycorn!

They laid him out upon the floor
To work him further woe
And still, as signs of life appeared
They tossed him to and fro

They wasted, o’er a scorching flame
The marrow of his bones
But a miller used him worst of all
For he crushed him between two stones

And they have taken 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

There were three kings into the East
Three kings both great and high
And they had sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die

They took a plough and ploughed him down
Put clods upon his head
And they had sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead