Page:Mérimée - Théâtre de Clara Gazul, 1857.djvu/95

His bending joints and drooping head
Show’d he began to fail.

His colour sicken’d more and more;
He faded into âge;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.

They’ve ta’en a weapon long and sharp
And cut him by the knee;
Then ty’d 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 turn’d 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 his 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 ha’e ta’en 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 auld Scotland !