THE JOHNSTONS - The Barleycorn | Текст песни

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The Barleycorn

There were three farmes in the north
As they were passing by
They swore an oath a mighty oath that Barleycorn should die
One of them said drown him
And the other said hang him high
For whoever will stick to Barleygrain a-begging that he will die

They put poor Barley into a sack
On a cold and rainy day
And brought him up to cumfield
And buried him in the clay
Frost and snow began to melt
And the dew began to fall
Then Barleygrain put up his head
And he soon surprised them all

Being in the summerseason
And the harvest coming on
Is the time he stands up in the field
With his beard like any man
The reaper then came with his sickle
And used me barberously
Oh he cut me by the middle so small
And he cut me above the knee

The next came was the binder
And he looked at me with a frown
But in the middle there was a thistle
Which pulled his courage down
The farmer came with his pitch fork
And pierced me to the heart
Like a thief, a rouge or a highwayman
They tied me to the cart

The thresher came with his big flail
And soon he broke my bones
Could grieve the heart of any man to hear my sighs and moans
The next thing that they've done to me
They steeped me in the well
And they left me there for a day and a night
Until I began to swell

And the next thing that they've done to me
They dried me in the kiln
They used me ten times worse than that
They ground me in the mill
They used me in the kitchen
They used me in the hall oh
They used me in the parlour among the ladies' all

The Barleygrain is a comical grain it makes men sigh and moan
But when they take a glass or two
They forget their wives at home
The drunkard is a dirty man he used me worst of all
Oh he drank me up in his dirty mouth and he tumbled against the wall


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