The Poetry of Robert Burns Edited by William Ernest Henley and Thomas F. Henderson |
I. |
JOHN BARLEYCORN
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The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||
JOHN BARLEYCORN
A Ballad
I
There was three kings into the east,Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.
II
They took a plough and plough'd him down,Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.
III
But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris'd them all.
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IV
The sultry suns of Summer came,And he grew thick and strong:
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.
V
The sober Autumn enter'd mild,When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.
VI
His colour sicken'd more and more,He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.
VII
They've taen a weapon long and sharp,And cut him by the knee;
Then ty'd him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.
VIII
They laid him down upon his back,And cudgell'd him full sore.
They hung him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er and o'er.
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IX
They fillèd up a darksome pitWith water to the brim,
They heavèd in John Barleycorn—
There, let him sink or swim!
X
They laid him out upon the floor,To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.
XI
They wasted o'er a scorching flameThe marrow of his bones;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two stones.
XII
And they hae taen his very heart's blood,And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.
XIII
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.
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XIV
'Twill make a man forget his woe;'Twill heighten all his joy:
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.
XV
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotlànd!
The Poetry of Robert Burns | ||