1
There came three men from out the West
Their victory to try;
And they have ta'en a solemn oath,
Poor Barleycorn should die.
With a Ri-fol-lol-riddle-diddle-dol
Ri fol, ri fol dee.
2
They took a plough and ploughed him in,
Clods harrowed on his head;
And then they took a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.
With a Ri-fol &c.
3
There he lay sleeping in the ground
Till rain did on him fall;
Then Barleycorn sprung up his head,
And so amazed them all.
With a Ri-fol &c.
4
There he remained till Midsummer
And look'd both pale and wan;
Then Barleycorn he got a beard
And so became a man.
With a Ri-fol &c.
5
Then they sent men with scythes so sharp
To cut him off at knee;
And then poor Johnny Barleycorn
They served most barbarouslie.
With a Ri-fol &c.