The little Barly-Corne.
Whose Properties and Vertues here,
Shall plainly to the world appeare:
To make you merry all the yeere.
To the tune of Stingo.
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COme, and doe not musing stand,
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if thou the truth discerne,
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But take a full cup in thy hand,
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and thus begin to learne,
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Not of the earth, nor of the ayre,
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at evening or at morne,
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But joviall boyes your Christmas keep
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with the little Barly-Corne.
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It is the cunningst Alchymist,
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that ere was in the Land,
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Twill change your mettle when it list,
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in turning of a hand,
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Your blushing Gold to Silver wan,
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your Silver into Brasse,
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Twill turne a Taylor to a man,
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and a man into an asse.
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Twill make a poore man rich to hang
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a signe before his doore,
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And those that doe the Pitcher hang,
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though rich twill make them poore;
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Twill make the silliest poorest Snake,
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the Kings great Porter scorne,
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Twill make the stoutest Lubber weak,
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this little Barly-Corne.
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It hath more shifts then Lambe ere had,
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or Hocus Pocus too,
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It will good fellowes shew more sport,
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then Bankes his horse could doe:
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Twill play you faire above the boord,
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unlesse you take good heed,
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And fell you though you were a Lord,
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and justifie the deed.
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It lends more yeeres unto old age,
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than ere was lent by nature,
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It makes the Poets fancy rage,
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more than Castalian water:
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Twill make a Huntsman chase a Fox,
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and never winde his horne,
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Twill cheere a Tinker in the stockes,
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this little Barly-Corne.
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It is the only Will othwispe,
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which leades men from the way,
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Twil make the tongue-tid Lawyer lisp
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and nought but (hic up) say,
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Twill make the Steward droope & stoop,
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his Bils he then will scorne,
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And at each post cast his reckning up,
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this little Barly-Corne.
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Twill make a man grow jealous soone,
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whose pretty Wife goes trim,
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And raile at the deceiving Moone,
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for making hornes at him:
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Twill make the Maidens trimly dance,
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and take it in no scorne,
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And helpe them to a friend by chance;
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this little Barly-Corne.
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It is the neatest Servingman,
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to entertaine a friend,
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It will doe more than money can,
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all jarring suits to end:
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Theres life in it, and it is here,
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tis here within this cup,
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Then take your liquor doe not spare,
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but cleare carouse it up.
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The second part of the little Barly-Corne,
That cheareth the heart both evening and morne.
To the same Tune.
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IF sicknesse come, this Physick take,
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it from your heart will set it,
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If feare incroach, take more of it,
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your heart will soone forget it,
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Apollo and the Muses nine,
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doe take it in no scorne,
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Theres no such stuffe to passe the time
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as the little Barly-Corne.
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Twill make a weeping Widdow laugh,
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and soone incline to pleasure:
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Twill make an old man leave his staffe
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and dance a youthfull measure;
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And though your clothes be nere so bad,
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all ragged, rent, and torne,
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Against the cold you may be clad,
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with the little Barly-Corne.
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Twill make a Coward not to shrinke,
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but be as stout as may be;
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Twill make a man that he shall thinke,
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that Jones as good as my Lady:
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It will inrich the palest face,
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and with Rubies it adorne,
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Yet you shall thinke it no disgrace,
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this little Barly-Corne.
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Twill make your Gossips merry,
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when they their liquour see,
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Hey we shall nere be weary,
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sweet Gossip heres to thee;
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Twill make the Country Yeoman,
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the Courtier for to scorne,
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And talke of Law-suits ore a Can,
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with this little Barly-Corne.
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It makes a man that write cannot,
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to make you large Indentures,
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When as he reeleth home at night,
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upon the Watch he ventures,
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He cares not for the Candlelight,
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that shineth in the horne,
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Yet he will stumble the way aright,
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this little Barly-Corne.
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Twill make a Mizer prodigall,
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and shew himselfe kind hearted,
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Twill make him never grieve at all,
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that from his Coyne hath parted,
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Twill make the Shepheard to mistake
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his Sheepe before a storme:
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Twill make the Poet to excell,
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this little Barly-Corne.
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It will make young Lads to call
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most freely for their liquor,
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Twill make a young Lasse take a fall,
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and rise againe the quicker:
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Twill make a man that he
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shall sleepe all night profoundly,
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And make a man what ere he be,
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goe about his businesse roundly.
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Thus the Barly-Corne hath power,
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even for to change our nature,
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And make a Shrew within an houre,
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prove a kind-hearted creature:
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And therefore here I say againe,
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let no man takt in scorne,
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That I the vertues doe proclaime,
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of the little Barly-Corne.
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