John Barleycorn Must Die
One thousand years ago, people were singing this wonderful song and drinking excellent beer.
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.
Sir John Barleycorn is the personification of barley and the beer that barley becomes. Our three villains resent Sir John’s popularity and set out to kill him.
They’ve ploughed, 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.
Those villains killed John Barleycorn, buried his body in a field and left him for dead.
They let him lie for a very long time
Till the rains from Heaven did fall,
And little Sir John sprung up his head
And so amazed them all.
But Sir John wasn’t dead after all and, to everyone’s surprise, he grew back tall and strong.
They’ve let him stand till Midsummer’s day,
Till he looked both pale and wan.
And little Sir John’s grown a long, long beard
And so become a man.
Those three men from the west were determined to take care of Sir John Barleycorn and they renewed their vow.
They’ve hired men with the scythes so sharp,
To cut him off at the knee,
They’ve rolled him and tied him by the waist,
Serving him most barbarously.
The Men of the West are so shocked at Sir John’s recovery that they cut him down again to make sure he is dead. Really dead this time.
They’ve wheeled him around and around a field,
Till they came unto a barn,
And there they made a solemn oath
On poor John Barleycorn
They’ve hired men with the crab-tree 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.
They grind poor Sir John down to make the malt extract used in brewing. A little yeast and a little time to ferment and Sir John is ready for his revenge.
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
We all love the heavenly brew that Sir John made possible. We all love our mug of beer and we’re all glad that Sir John Barleycorn took his revenge on those three men from the west.
The huntsman, he can’t hunt the fox
Nor so loudly to blow his horn,
And the tinker, he can’t mend kettle nor pots
without a little barley corn
The Sir John Barleycorn pub was founded in the twelfth century by the man who discovered King William II’s body in the New Forest after he was “accidentally” shot with an arrow by his brother who inherited the throne to become King Henry I.
I spent a very pleasant day listening to every version of John Barleycorn Must Die that I could find on the web. From Martin Carthy to Paul Weller via Billy Bragg and Jethro Tull and The Fairport Convention and many, many more.
The best version by far is by Traffic but each has its own charms.
Turn up the volume and raise a glass to that ancient hero, Sir John Barleycorn.
Oh, I love this, have heard only the Traffic version and knew nothing of the story, history, etc. but have always loved the sound. Will look up the others too! This little exercise takes me back to my Napster days (!) when I was like a kid in a candy store looking up all the songs I’d loved 20 years before but not heard in ages. Quickly discovered the “find all the versions” game, eventually amassing a startlingly eclectic collection of every version I could find of Ring of Fire.
Like that Traffic version. Steeleye Span do a good one. They included it in their Falmouth concert last year. I love English folk music and beer - it's just so English 🥹