Luyện nghe bài hát John Barleycorn

There were three men come out of the west, fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow, John would die
They've ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed, clods upon his head
Till these three men were satisfied Barleycorn was dead
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beer all in the barrel and brandy in the glass
But little Sir John, his nut-brown bowl, proved the strongest man at last
They've let him lie for a long long till the rains from heaven did fall
And Sir John sprang up his head and so amazed them all
They've let him stand till midsummer's day and he looks both and wan
Then little Sir John's grown a long beard and so become a man
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They've hired men with the sharp-edged scythes to cut him off at the
They've rolled him and tied him the waist, treated him most barbarously
They've hired men with the sharp-edged forks to prick him to the
And the loader has served him than that for he's bound him to the cart
So they've wheeled him around and around the till they've come unto a barn
And here they've their solemn word concerning Barleycorn
They've hired men with the sticks to split him skin from bone
And the miller has him worse than that for he's ground him between two stones
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And the huntsman he can't hunt the fox nor loudly his horn
And the tinker he can't mend his without John Barleycorn