Page:Three favourite songs (NLS104186290).pdf/4

4 An’ they hae sworn a solemn oath,
 * John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and plough’d him down,
 * Put clods upon his head;

And they hae sworn a solemn oath.
 * John Borleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful spring came kindly on,
 * And show’rs began to fall:

John Barleycorn got up again,
 * And sore surpris’d them all.

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.

The sober autumn enter’d mild,
 * When he grew won and pale;

His bending joints and drooping head,
 * Show’d he began to fail.

His colour sicken’d more and more,
 * He faded into age;