John Barleycorn barndance

There are 17 recordings of a tune by this name.

John Barleycorn has been added to 4 tunebooks.

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One setting

X: 1
T: John Barleycorn
R: barndance
M: 4/4
L: 1/8
K: Edor
EG|:"A"A2 AG "Em"E2 E2|"C"G2 "D"GA "Em"B2 BG|"A"A2 AG "C"E2 "D"E2|
"Em"E6 BA|"A" A2 AG "Em"E2 EF|"C"G2 "D"A2 "Em"B2 AG|"A"A2 AG "C"E2 "D"E2|
"Em"E6 EF|"G"G2 A2 BcdB|"Em"ee e2 e2 Bc|"G"d2 d2 "A"e2 A2|
"Bm"B6 cB|"Am"A2 AG "Em"E2 EF|"C"G2 "D"A2 "Em"B2 AG|"A"A2 AG "C"E2 "D"E2|"Em"E6:||

Three comments

John Barleycorn

Hope this works for your whistle. There are words to this as you probably know

Re: John Barleycorn

Than you. How did I miss this post on this site? Yes, I know there are words, a favorite song.

Re: John Barleycorn

John Barleycorn: A Ballad, written by Robert Burns

There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

They took a plough and plough’d him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show’rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris’d them all.

The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong;
His head weel arm’d wi’ pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.

The sober Autumn enter’d mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show’d 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’ve taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell’d him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turned 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 us’d him worst of all,
For he crush’d him between two stones.

And they hae taen 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!