And as they walked for to sport, upon a Sommers day, Then with another nobleman they went to make a fray. Whose name was sir John Barley Corne, he dwelt downe in a dale; Who had a kinsman dwelt him nigh, they cal'd him Thomas Goodale. Another named Richard Beere, was ready at that time Another worthy knight was there call'd sir William White Wine. Some of them fought in a blacke Jacke some of them in a Can, But the chiefest in a black pot, like a worthy noble man. Sir John Barley-corne fought in a Boule, who wonne the victorie; And made them all to fume and sweare that Barley-corne should die. [Illustration] Some said kill him, some said drowne, others wisht to hang him hie, For as many as follow Barley-corne, shall surely beggers die. Then with a plough they plowed him up and thus they did devise, To burie him quicke within the earth, and swore he should not rise. With horrowes strong they combed him, and burst clods on his head; A joyfull banquet then was made when Barly-Corne was dead. He rested still within the earth, till raine from skies did fall, Then he grew up in branches greene, which sore amaz'd them all. And so grew up till Mid-sommer, which made them all afeard, For he was sprouted up on hie, and got a goodly beard. Then he grew till S. _James_ tide, his countenance was wan, For he was growne unto his strength, and thus became a man. With hookes and sickles keene into the field they hide[F. 126] They Cut his legs off by the knees and made him wounds full wide. Thus bloodily they cut him downe from place where he did stand, And like a thiefe for treachery, they bound him in a band. So then they tooke him up againe according to his kind; And packt him up in severall sackes, to wither with the wind. And with a pitch forke that was sharpe they rent him to the heart, And like a thiefe for treason vile, they bound him in a cart. And tending him with weapons strong unto the towne they hye, And straight they mowed him in a mow and there they let him lie. Then he lay groning by the wals, till all his wounds were sore, At length they tooke him up againe, and cast him on the floore. They hyred two with holly clubs, to beat on him at once, They thwacked so on Barly-corne, that flesh fell from the bones. And then they tooke him up againe, to fulfill womens minde, They dusted him, and they sifted him, till he was almost blind. And then they knit him in a sacke, which grieved him full sore, They steeped him in a Fat,[F. 127] God wot, for three days space and more. And then they took him up againe, and laid him for to drie, They cast him on a chamber floore, and swore that he should die.