John Barleycorn is a hero bold
As any in the land
For ages good his fame has stood
And shall forever stand
The whole wide world respects in him
No matter friend or foe
And where they be that make too free
He's sure to lay them low
Hey, John Barleycorn!
Oh, John Barleycorn!
Old and young thy praise have sung
John Barleycorn!
To see him in his pride of growth
His robes are rich and green
His head is speared with a prickly beard
Most right to serve the Queen
And when the reaping time comes round
And John is stricken down
He'll use his blood for England's good
And Englishmen's renown
Hey, John Barleycorn!
Oh, John Barleycorn!
Old and young thy praise have sung
John Barleycorn!
The Lord in courtly castle and the Squire in stately hall
The great of name, of birth and fame
On John for succour call
He bids the troubled heart rejoice
Brings warmth to winter's cold
Makes old men young and weak ones strong
And all men brave and bold
Hey, John Barleycorn!
Oh, John Barleycorn!
Old and young thy praise have sung
John Barleycorn!
Then shout for brave John Barleycorn
Nor heed the luscious vine
I have no mind, much charms to find
In potent glass of wine
Give me my native nut-brown ale
All other drinks I'll scorn
For English cheer is English beer
Our own John Barleycorn
Hey, John Barleycorn!
Oh, John Barleycorn!
Old and young thy praise have sung
John Barleycorn!