Page:Three favourite songs (NLS104186290).pdf/6

 But a miller used him worst of all,
 * For he crush’d him ’tween two stones.

And they hae ta’en his very heart’s blood,
 * And drank it round and round;

And still the more and more they drank,
 * Their joy did more abound.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
 * Of noble enterprise;

For if you do but taste his blood
 * ’Twill make your courage rise.

’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.

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
 * Each man a glass in hand;

And may his great posterity,
 * Ne’er fail in old Scotland.