The little Barly-Corne.  
Whose Properties and Virtues here,  
Shall plainly to the world appear:  
To make you merry all the year.  
To the tune of Stingo.  
 

COme, and do not musing stand,  
if thou the truth discern,  
But take a full cup in thy hand,  
and thus begin to learn,  
Not of the earth, nor of the air,  
at evening or at morn,  
But jovial boys your Christmas keep  
with the little Barly-Corne.   

It is the cunningest Alchemist,  
that ere was in the Land,  
'twill change your mettle when it list,  
in turning of a hand,  
Your blushing Gold to Silver wan,  
your Silver into Brass,  
'twill turn a Tailor to a man,  
and a man into an asle.   

'twill make a poor man rich to hang  
a sign before his door,  
And those that do the Pitcher bang,  
though rich 'twill make them poor;  
'twill make the silliest poorest Snake,  
the King's great Porter scorn,  
'twill make the stoutest Lubber weak,  
this little Barly-Corne.   

It hath more shifts than Lamb ere had,  
or Hocus Pocus too,  
It will good fellows show more sport,  
than Banks his horse could do:  
'twill play you fair above the board,  
unless you take good heed,  
And fell you though you were a Lord,  
and justify the deed.   

It lends more years unto old age,  
than ere was lent by nature,  
It makes the Poet's fancy rage,  
more than Castalian water:  
'twill make a Huntsman chase a Fo●,  
and never wind his horn,  
'twill cheer a Tinker in the stocks,  
this little Barly-Corne.   

It is the only Will oth'wispe,  
which leads men from the way,  
'twil make the tongue-tied Lawyer lisp  
and nought but (hie up) say,  
'twill make the Steward droop & stoop,  
his Bills he then will scorn,  
And at each post cast his reckoning up,  
this little Barly-Corne.   

'twill make a man grow jealous soon,  
whose pretty Wife goes trim,  
And rail at the deceiving Moon,  
for making horns at him:  
'twill make the Maidens trimly dance,  
and take it in no scorn,  
And help them to a friend by chance;  
this little Barly-Corne.   

It is the neatest Servingman,  
to entertain a friend,  
It will do more than money can,  
all jarring suits to end:  
There's life in it, and it is here,  
'tis here within this cup,  
Then take your liquor do not spare,  
but clear carouse it up.   

The second part of the little Barly-Corne, That cheereth the heart both evening and morn.  
To the same Tune.  
 

IF sickness come, this Physic take,  
it from your heart will set it,  
If fear encroach, take more of it,  
your heart will soon forget it,  
Apollo and the Muses nine,  
do take it in no scorn,  
There's no such stuff to pass the time  
as the little Barly-Corne.   

'twill make a weeping Widow laugh,  
and soon incline to pleasure:  
'twill make an old man leave his staff  
and dance a youthful measure;  
And though your clothes be ne'er so bad,  
all ragged, rent, and torn,  
Against the cold you may be clad,  
with the little Barly-Corne.   

'twill make a Coward not to shrink,  
but be as stout as may be;  
'twill make a man that he shall think,  
that Ione's as good as my Lady:  
It will enrich the palest face,  
and with Rubies it adorn,  
Yet you shall think it no disgrace,  
this little Barly-Corne.   

'twill make your Gossips merry,  
when they their liquor see,  
hay we shall ne'er be weary,  
sweet Gossip here's to thee;  
'twill make the Country Yeoman,  
the Courtier for to scorn,  
And talk of Lawsuits o'er a Can,  
with this little Barly-Corne.   

It makes a man that write cannot,  
to make you large Indentures,  
When as he réeleth home at night,  
upon the Watch he ventures,  
He cares not for the Candlelight,  
that shineth in the horn,  
Yet he will stumble the way aright,  
this little Barly-Corne.   

'twill make a Miser prodigal,  
and show himself kind hearted,  
'twill make him never grieve at all,  
that from his Coin hath parted,  
'twill make the Shepherd to mistake  
his Sheep before a storm:  
'twill make the Poet to excel,  
this little Barly-Corne.   

It will make young Lads to call  
most freely for their liquor,  
'twill make a young Lass take a fall,  
and rise again the quicker:  
'twill make a man that he  
shall sleep all night profoundly,  
And make a man what ere he be,  
go about his business roundly.   

Thus the Barly-Corne hath power,  
even for to change our nature,  
And make a Shrew within an hour,  
prove a kindhearted creature:  
And therefore here I say again,  
let no man take't in scorn,  
That I the virtues do proclaim,  
of the little Barly-Corne.     

Printed at London for E. B.