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“John Barleycorn” by Robert Burns from A Book of Favorite Modern Ballads, 1860.

There went three kings into the east,

Three kings both great and high;

And they have sworn a solemn oath,

John Barleycorn shall die.

They took a plough and plough’d him down,

Put clods upon his head;

And they have 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 arm'd with pointed spears,

That no one should him wrong.

File:Masked criminal at the grave of John Barleycorn cph.3b52743.jpg

The sober autumn enter’d mild,

And 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.

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 cudgel'd him full sore;

They hung him up before the storm,

And turn’d him o'er and o'er.

They fill’d up then a darksome pit

With water to the brim.

And heaved in poor John Barleycorn,

To let him sink or swim.

They laid him out upon the floor,

To work him further woe;

And still, as signs of life appeared,

They toss'd him to and fro.

They wasted o’er a scorching flame

The marrow of his bones;

But the miller used him worst of all,

For he crush'd him between two stones.

And they have taken his very heart's blood.

And drunk it round and round:

And so farewell, John Barleycorn!

Thy fate thou now hast found.

A Book of Favorite Modern Ballads. D. Appleton and Co., 1860.

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