Sir Barly-corn fought in a Boule, who wonne the victorie; And made them all to fume and swear that Barly-corne should die. Some said Kill him some said Drown others wisht to hang him hie— For as many as follow Barly-corne, shall surely beggers die. Then with a plough they plow’d him up, and thus they did devise, To burie him quicke within the earth, and swore he should not rise. With harrowes strong they combèd him, and burst clods on his head, A joyful 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 midsommer, which made them all afeard; For he was sprouted up on hie and got a goodly beard. Then he grew till S. James’s-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, They cut his legs off by the knees, and made him wounds full wide. {298} 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 stackes to wither with the wind. And with a pitchforke 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 hie, 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 hyrèd two with holly clubs, to beat on him at once, They thwackèd so on Barly-corne that flesh fell from his bones. And then they tooke him up againe, to fulfill women’s minde, They dusted and they sifted him, till he was almost blind. And then they knit him in a sacke, which grievèd him full sore, They steep’d him in a Fat, God-wot, for three days space and more. {299} 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. They rubbèd him and stirrèd him, and still they did him turne The malt-man swore that he should die, his body he would burne. They spightfully tooke him up againe and threw him on a Kill; So dried him there with fire hot, and thus they wrought their will. Then they brought him to the mill and there they burst his bones, The miller swore to murther him, betwixt a paire of stones. Then they tooke him up againe and serv’d him worse then that; For with hot scalding liquor store, they washt him in a Fat. But not content with this, God-wot, they did him mickle harme, With threatening words they promisèd, to beat him into barme.