A pleasant new Ballad to sing Evening and Morn Of the BLOODY
MURDER
Of Sir JOHN-BARLEY-CORN. To the Tune of, shall I lye beyond thee Licensced
and Entred according to Order.
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AS I went through the North Country,
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I heard a merry Meeting,
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A pleasant Toy, and full of Joy,
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Two noble Men were greeting.
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And as they walked forth to sport,
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upon a Summer's day;
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They met another Noble Man.
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with whom they had a Fray.
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His Name was Sir John Barley Corn,
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he dwelt down in a Vale:
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And had a Kinsman dwelt with him,
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they call'd him Thomas Good Ale.
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The one named Sir Richard Beer,
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was ready at that time,
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And likewise came a busy Peer,
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call'd Sir William White Wine.
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Some of them fought in a black Jack,
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some of them in a Can,
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But yet the chiefest in the black Pot,
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fought like a Noble Man.
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Sir Barley-Corn fought in a Bowl,
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who won the Victory;
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Which made them all to Curse and Swear,
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that Barley-Corn must dye.
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some said Kill him some said him drown,
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some wisht to hang him high,
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For those that followed Barley-Corn,
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they said would Beggars dye,
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Then with a Plow they plow'd him up,
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and thus they did Devise,
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To Bury him within the Earth,
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and swore he should not rise.
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With Harrows strong they came to him,
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and burst Clods on his Head,
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A joyful Banquet then was made,
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when Barley-Corn was Dead.
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He rested still upon the Earth,
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till Rain from sky did fall:
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Then he grew up on Branches Green,
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which sore amaz'd them all.
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Increasing thus till Mid-summer
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he made them all afraid;
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For he sprung up on high,
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and had a goodly Beard.
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When Ripening at st. James's Tide,
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his Countenance waxed wan?
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Yet now full grown in part of strength,
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and thus became a Man.
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Wherefore with Hooks and sickles keen,
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unto the Field they hy'd,
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They cut his Legs off by the Knees,
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and Limb from Limb divide.
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Then bloodily they cut him down,
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from place where he did stand,
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And like a Thief for Treachery,
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they bound him in a Band,
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so then they took him up again,
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according to his kind;
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And plac'd him up in several stacks,
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to wither with the Wind,
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Then with a Pitch-fork sharp and Long,
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they rent him to the Heart;
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And Traitor like for Treason vile,
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they bound him in a Cart.
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And tending him with Weapons strong,
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unto the Town they hye;
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Whereas they Mow him all in Row,
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and so they let him lye.
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They left him groaning by the Wall,
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till all his Bones wos sore,
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And having took him up again,
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they cast him on the Floor.
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And hired two with with Holly-Clubs,
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to beat at him at once?
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Who thwackt so hard on Barley-Corn,
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the Flesh fell from his Bones.
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Then after took him up again,
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to please some Womens mind,
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Yea dusted, sann'd, and sifted him,
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till he was almost blind.
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Full fast they knit him in a sack,
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which grieved him very sore:
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And soundly steept him in a Fat,
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for three Days space and more.
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From whence again they took him out,
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and laid him forth to Dry
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Then cast him on the Chamber Floor,
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and swore that he should Dye.
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They rub'd and stur'd him up and down,
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and oft did Toyl and Ture:
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The Malt Man likewise Vows his Death,
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his Body shou'd be sure.
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They pull'd and hal'd him up spight,
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and threw him on a Kill;
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Yea dry'd him on a Fire hot,
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the more to work their will.
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[T]hen to the Mill they forc'd him straist,
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whereas they bruis'd his Bones;
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The Miller swore to Murder him,
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betwixt a pair of stones,
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The last time that they took him up,
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they serv'd him worse than that,
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For with hot scalding Liquor store,
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they wash'd him in a Fat.
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But not content with this God wot,
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they wrought him so much harm,
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With cruel Threat they Promise next,
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to beat him into a Balm.
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And lying in this danger deep,
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for fear that he should Quarrel,
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They heav'd him strait out of the Fat
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and turn'd him into the Barrel.
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They goar and brooch'd it with a Tap
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so thus his Death began,
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And drew out every drop of Blood,
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while any drop would Run.
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some brought in Jacks upon their backs,
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some brought in Bowls and Pails.
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Yea every Man some we apon had,
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poor Barley Corn to kill.
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When sir John Good Ale heard of this,
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he came with Mickle might,
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And took by strength their Tongus away,
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their Legs and eke their sight.
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sir John at last in this respect,
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so paid them all theis hire,
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That some lay bleeding by the Walls,
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some tumbling in the Mire.
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some lay Groaning by the Walls,
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some fell i 'th street down right
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The wisest of them scarcely knew,
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what he had done o're Night.
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All you good Wives that brew good Ale,
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God keep you from all Teen,
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But if you put too much water in;
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the Devil put out your Eyes:
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