Lack Of Limits John Barleycorn
There were thin men came out of the west
They came their fortunes for to try
They had made a solemn oath,
John Barleycorn must die
They ploughed him 3 furrows deep
Laid clods upon his head
And they had made a solemn oath,
Sir John shall be dead
Well then came a shower of rain,
Which from the heavy clouds did fall
And little Sir John sprung up his head,
He so amazed them all
And little Sir John had grown a long long beard
He so became a man
With a knife they cut him off his head
And dead was John Barleycorn
They wheeled him here,
They wheeled him there
They wheeled him into a barn
And little Sir John he laughed with them
Loud and proud they sang:
"Hey, hey, it`s a lucky day,
John Barleycorn is dead.
