Текст песни John Barleycorn (Must Die) - First Version - Traffic

There were three men came out of the west, their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn must die
They've plowed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in
Threw clods upon his head
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn was dead
They've let him lie for a very long
Time, 'til the rains from heaven did fall
And little Sir John sprung up his head and so amazed them all
They've let him stand 'til
Midsummer's day 'til he looked both pale and wan
And little Sir John's grown a long long beard and so become a man
They've hired men with their
Scythes so sharp to cut him off at the knee
They've rolled him and tied him by
The way, serving him most barbarously
They've hired men with their sharp
Pitchforks who've pricked him to the heart
And the loader he has served him worse than that
For he's bound him to the cart
They've wheeled him around and
Around a field 'til they came onto a pond
And there they made a solemn oath on poor John Barleycorn
They've hired men with their crabtree sticks to cut him skin from bone
And the miller he has served him worse than that
For he's ground him between two stones
And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl and his brandy in the glass
And little Sir John and the nut brown
Bowl proved the strongest man at last
The huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor so loudly to blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend kettle
Or pots without a little barleycorn
Compositori: Steve Winwood