Page:Robin Adair (2).pdf/4

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4

They took a plough and plough'd him
put clods upon his head;
And they have sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn is dead.

But the cheerful spring cam kindly on,
and showers began to fall;
John Barleycorn go up again,
and sore surprised them all

The sultry suns of Summer came,
and he grew thick and strong,
His head well armed with pointed spears,
that no one should him wrong.

The sober Autumn entered mild,
ween he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head,
shewed he began to fail.

His colour sicken'd more and more,
he faded into age;
And then his enemies began
to show their deadly rage.

They'ye ta'en a weapon long and sharp,
and cut him by the knee;
Then ty'd him fast upon a cart,
like a rogue for forgery.