There were three farmers in the north, as they were

passing by

they swore an oath so mighty oh that Barleycorn should

die

one of them said: drown him and the other sad: hang

him high

for whoever will stick to Barleycorn a-begging he will die



they put poor Barley into a sack an a cold an rainy day

and took him out to cornfields and buried him in the clay

frost and snow began to melt and dew began to fall

when Barleygrain put up his head and he soon surprised

them all



being in the summer season and the harvest coming on

it's the time he stands up in the field with a beard like

any man

the reaper then came with his sickle and used me

barberously

he cut me in the middle so small and he cut me above

the knee



the next came was the binder and he looked at me with

a frown

for in the middle there was a thistle which pulled his

courage down

the farmer came with his pitch fork and he pierced me to

the heart

like a thief, a rogue or a highwayman they tied me to the

cart



the thresher came with his big flail and soon he broke

my bones

could grieve the heart of any man to hear my sighs and

moans

the next thing that they've done to me they steeped me

in the well

they left me there for a day and night until I began to

swell



and next thing that they've done to me they dried me in

a kiln

they used me ten times worse, than that they ground

me in the mill

they used me in the kichen, they used me in the hall

oh they used me in the parlour among the ladies all



the Barleygrain is a comical grain, it makes men sigh

and moan

for when they drink a glass or two they forget their wives

and home

the drunkard is a dirty man, he used me worst of all

he drank me up in his dirty mouth an he tumbled against

the wall