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John Barleycorn must die

John Barleycorn must die
Traditional


Violin, guitar, bass, drums
Skill :
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Composer
Traditional
Traditional
Instrumentation

Violin, guitar, bass, drums

Style

Ballad

Arranger
Traditional
Bizzarri, Bruno (1956 - )
KeyC major
LyricistAnonymous
LangageEnglish
DateXVII secolo o prima
CopyrightPublic Domain
"John Barleycorn must die", o semplicemente "John Barleycorn", è una ballata tradizionale inglese e scozzese. La prima versione a stampa risale alla prima metà del XVII secolo, ma è plausibile che il brano circolasse sin dal Medioevo. Il testo è un'allegoria della produzione del whisky e della birra che viene descritta in tutte le sue fasi, dalla semina del chicco d'orzo al prodotto finito. Il personaggio di John Barleycorn è la personificazione dello "Spirito del grano", che deve essere uc...(+)
Added by brunobizzarri, 15 Mar 2023

LYRICS
There was three men came out of the west,
Their fortunes for to try,
And these three men made a solemn vow,
John Barleycorn should die.
They ploughed, they sowed, they harrowed him in,
Threw clods upon his head,
And these three men made a solenm vow,
John Barleycorn was dead.

Then they let him lie for a very long time
Till the rain from heaven did fall,
Then little Sir John sprung up his head,
And soon amazed them all.
They let him stand till midsummer day
Till he looked so pale and wan,
And little Sir John's grown a long, long beard
And so became a man.

They hired a man with the scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the knee,
They rolled him and tied him by the waist,
And served him most barbarously.
They hired a man with the sharp pitchforks
Who pricked him to the heart,
And the loader he served him worse than that,
For he bound him to the cart.

They 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 hired a man with the crab-tree sticks
To cut him skin from bone,
And the miller he served him worse than that,
For he ground him between two stones.

Here’s little Sir John in a nut-brown bowl,
And his brandy in the glass.
And little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl
Proved the stronger man at last.
And the huntsman he can’t hunt the fox,
Nor so loudly blow his horn,
And the tinker he can’t mend kettles or pots
Without a littl'of Barleycorn.

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