Luyện nghe bài hát John Barleycorn

There were three men came out of the
Their for to try
And these three men a solemn oath
Barleycorn must die

They've ploughed, sown, they've harrowed him in
Threw clods his head
And these three men a solemn vow
John was dead

let him lie for a very long time
Till the rains from heaven did
And little Sir John up his head
And so amazed all

let him stand till midsummer's day
Till he looked pale and wan
And little Sir John's grown a long, beard
And so a man

They've hired men the scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the
They've rolled him and him by the way
him most barbarously

They've hired men the sharp pitchforks
Who him to the heart
And the loader he has served him worse that
For bound him to the cart

They've wheeled him and around the field
Till they came unto a
And there they made a solemn
On poor Barleycorn

They've hired men the crab-tree sticks
To cut his skin from
And the miller he has served him worse than
For he's ground him between two

And little Sir John and the nut-brown
And brandy in the glass
And little Sir John and the nut-brown
Proved the man at last

The huntsman, he hunt the fox
Nor so to blow his horn
And the tinker he mend kettle nor pot
a little Barleycorn