Some of them fought in a Blacke-Jack, some of them in a Can; But the chiefest in a blacke-pot, like a worthy alderman. {297}
Sir Barly-corn fought in a Boule, who wonne the victorie; And made them all to fume and swear that Barly-corne should die.
Some said Kill him some said Drown others wisht to hang him hie— For as many as follow Barly-corne, shall surely beggers die.
Then with a plough they plow’d him up, and thus they did devise, To burie him quicke within the earth, and swore he should not rise.
With harrowes strong they combèd him, and burst clods on his head, A joyful banquet then was made, when Barly-corne was dead.
He rested still within the earth, till raine from skies did fall, Then he grew up in branches greene, which sore amaz’d them all.
And so grew up till midsommer, which made them all afeard; For he was sprouted up on hie and got a goodly beard.
Then he grew till S. James’s-tide, his countenance was wan, For he was growne unto his strength, and thus became a man.
With hookes and sickles keene into the field they hide, They cut his legs off by the knees, and made him wounds full wide. {298}
Thus bloodily they cut him downe, from place where he did stand, And like a thiefe for treachery, they bound him in a band.