John Barleycorn - Traffic

作词：Steve Winwood/Traditional

作曲：Steve Winwood/Traditional

There were three men came out of the West

Their fortunes for to try

And these three men made a solemn vow:

John Barleycorn must die

They've ploughed they've sewn

They've harrowed him in

Threw clods at Barleys head

And these three men made a solemn vow

John Barleycorn was dead

They've let him lie for a very long time

Till the rains from heaven did fall

And little Sir John sprung up his head

And so amazed them all

They've let him stand till midsummers day

Till he looked both pale and worn

And little Sir Johns grown a long long beard

And so become a man

They've hired men with the scythes so sharp

To cut him off at the knee

They've rolled him and tied him by the waist

Serving him most barbarously

They've hired men with the sharp pitchforks

Who pricked him to the heart

And the loader he has served him worse than that

For hes bound him to the cart

They've wheeled him around and around the field

Till they came unto a barn

And there they made a solemn oath

On poor John Barleycorn

They've hired men with the crab-tree sticks

To cut him skin from bone

And the miller he has served him worse than that

For his ground him between two stones

And little Sir John and the nut-brown bowl

And his brandy in the glass

And little Sir John and the nut-brown bowl

Proved the strongest man at last

The huntsman he can't hunt the fox

Nor so loudly to blow his horn

And the tinker he can't mend kettle nor pots

Without a little Barleycorn