A Pleasant new Ballad, to sing Evening and Morn, Of the bloody Murder of S●r John Barlycorn,  
The tune is, Shall I lie beyond thee.  
 

AS I went through the North Country  
I heard a merry meeting,  
A p●eas●nt toy and full of joy  
two noblemen were greeting,   

And as they walked forth to sport,  
upon a summer's day  
They met another Noble man  
with whom they'd had a fray.   

His name was Sir John Barlycorn,  
he dwelled down in a V●le  
And had a Kinsman dwelled with him,  
they called him Thomas Good Ale.   

Than one named Sir Richard Beer  
was re●dy at that t●me,  
And l●kewise came a busy P●er  
cal●'d Sir William W●ite-wine.   

Some of them fought in a black Jack,  
some of them in a Can,  
But yet the chiefest in a black Pot  
fought like a Noble man:   

Sir Barlycorn fought in a bowl,  
who won the victory,  
Which made them all to chafe and swear,  
that Barlicorn should die   

Some said him kill, some said him drown,  
some wished to hang him high,  
For those that followed Barlycorn  
they said would beggars die,   

Then with a p●ow they ploughed him up,  
and thus they did device  
To bu●● him quick within the Earth  
and swore he should not rise.   

With harrows strong they came to him  
a●d burst clods o● his head,  
jo●fu● banq●et then was made,  
when Barlycorn was dead.   

He rest●d still upon the Earth,  
till rain from sky did fall,  
Than he grew up on branches green.  
which sore amazed them all,   

Increasing thus till midsummer,  
he made them all afeared,  
For he sprang up on high  
and got a goodly beard   

When ripening to St. James-tide,  
his countenance waxed wan,  
Yet now full grown in parter strength.  
and thus became a man,   

Wherefore with hooks and sickles keen  
unto the field they hied,  
They cut his legs off by the knees  
and limb from limb divide.   

Then bloodily they cut him down,  
from place where he did stand,  
And like a thief for treachery  
they bound him in a band,   

So than they took him up again,  
according to his kind,  
And plac d him up in several stakes  
to wither with the wind.   

Then with a pitchfork sharp and long  
they rent him to the heart.  
And traytor-like for treason vile  
they bound him in a Cart.  
And tending him with weapons strong  
unto the town they high,  
Whereas they mowed him in a Mow  
and so they let him lie.   

They left him groaning by the walls  
till all his wounds were sore,  
And having took him up again,  
they cast him on a floor,   

And hired two with holly Clubs  
to beat at him at once,  
Who thwacked so hard on Barlicorn  
the flesh fell from his bones,   

Then after took h●m up again,  
to please some womens' mind,  
Yea dust●d, found, and si●ted him,  
till he was almost bind.   

Fu●l fast th●y kit him in a sack,  
which grieved him very sore,  
And soundly steep● him in a fat,  
for three days' space and more,   

From whence again they took him out  
and laid him forth to dry,  
Then cast him on a Chamber floor  
and swore that he should die,   

They rubed and stirred him up and down  
and oft did toil and ture.  
The maltman likewise vows his death  
his body should be sure,   

Th●y pul●d and holed him yet up in spite,  
and threw him on a Kill,  
Y●a dry●d him on fire hot  
the more to work their will,   

Then to the Mill they forced him straight  
whereas they bruise his bones.  
The Miller swore to murder him  
betwixt a pair of stones.   

The last time when they took him up  
and served him worse than that,  
For with hot scalding liquour store  
they washed him in a fat.   

But not content with this God wot  
they wrought him so much harm.  
With cruel threat they promise next  
to beat him into barm,   

And lying in this danger deep,  
for fear that he should quarrel,  
They heaved him straight out of the fat  
and turned him in the barrel,   

They cored and broached it with a Tap  
so thus hi● Death began,  
And drew out every Dram of blood  
whilst any drop would run.   

Some brought in jacks upon their backs  
some brought Bowl and pail,  
Yea every man some weapon had  
poor Barlicorn to kill.   

When Sir John Good Ale heard of this,  
he came with mickle might,  
And took by strength their tongues away  
their legs and eke their sight.   

Sir John at last in his respect,  
so paid them all their hire,  
Than some lay bleeding by the walls  
some tumbling in the mire.   

Some sadly droning by the walls  
some fell i'th' stréts down right,  
The wisest of them scarcely knew  
what he had done o'er night.   

All you'good wives that brew good Ale,  
God keep you from all téen,  
But if you put too much water in,  
the devil put out your eyen.   
FINIS.