They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore
They hung him up before the storm,
And turn'd him o'er and o'er.
They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim,
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.
They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.
They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones!
But a miller used him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two stones.
And they hae ta'en his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank, Their joy did more abound.
John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise ;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.
"Twill make a man forget his woe: "Twill heighten all his joy:
"Twill make the widow's heart to sing, Tho' the tear were in her eye.
Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand; And may his great posterity Ne'er fail in old Scotland!
WHEN Guilford good our pilot stood,
And did our hellim thraw, man,
Ae night, at tea, began a plea,
Within America, man :
Then up they gat the maskin-pat,
And in the sea did jaw, man;
An' did nae less, in full congress,
Than quite refuse our law, man.
Then thro' the lakes Montgomery takes,
I wat he was na slaw, man :
Down Lowrie's burn he took a turn,
And Carleton did ca', man :
But yet, what-reck, he, at Quebec,
Montgomery-like did fa', man ;
Wi' sword in hand, before his band,
Amang his enemies a', man.
Poor Tammy Gage, within a cage
Was kept at Boston ha', man;
Till Willie Howe took o'er the knowe
For Philadelphia, man:
Wi' sword an' gun he thought a sin
Guid Christian blood to draw, man;
But at New-York, wi' knife an' fork,
Sir-loin he hacked sma', man.
Burgoyne gaed up, like spur an' whip,
Till Fraser brave did fa', man ;
Then lost his way, ae misty day,
In Saratoga shaw, man.
Cornwallis fought as lang's he dought,
An' did the buckskins claw, man;
But Clinton's glaive frae rust to save,
He hung it to the wa', man.
Then Montague, an' Guilford too,
Began to fear a fa', man;
And Sackville doure, wha stood the stoure,
The German chief to thraw, man:
For Paddy Burke, like onie Turk,
Nae mercy had at a', man;
An' Charlie Fox threw by the box,
An' lows'd his tinkler jaw, man.
Then Rockingham took up the game;
Till death did on him ca', man;
When Shelburne meek held up
Conform to gospel law, man,
Saint Stephen's boys, wi' jarring noise,
They did his measures thraw, man,
For North an' For united stocks,
An' bore him to the wa', man.
Then clubs an' hearts were Charlie's cartes,
He swept the stakes awa', man,
Till the diamond's ace, of Indian race,
Led him a sair faux pas, man :
The Saxon lads, wi' loud placads,
On Chatham's boy did ca', man;
An' Scotland drew her pipe, an' blew,
Up, Willie, waur them a', man!'
Behind the throne then Grenville's gone,
A secret word or twa, man;
While slee Dundas arous'd the class
Be-north the Roman wa', man :
An' Chatham's wraith, in heavenly graith,
(Inspired bardies saw, man)
Wi' kindling eyes cry'd, Willie, rise!
Would I hae feared them a' man?'
But word an' blow, North, Fox, and Co.
Gowff'd Willie like a ba', man,
Till Suthron raise, and coost their claise
Behind him in a raw, man;
An' Caledon threw by the drone,
An' did her whittle draw, man;
An' swoor fu' rude, thro' dirt an' blood
To mak it guid in law, man.
Tune CORN RIGS ARE BONNIE.
Ir was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonnie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held awa to Annie:
The time flew by wi' tentless heed,
'Till 'tween the late and early,
Wi' sna' persuasion she agreed,
So see me thro' the barley..
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