Luyện nghe bài hát John Barleycorn

There were men, came out of the west
fortunes for to try
And these three men a solemn vow
John must die

Well, ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in
clods upon his head
Till these men were satisfied
Barleycorn was dead

They've let him lie for a long, time
the rains from heaven did fall
And little Sir John sprang up his
And so amazed all

let him lie till the midsummer's day
Till he looked both and wan, oh
Then little Sir has grown a long long beard
And so a man

They have hired men the scythes so sharp
To cut him off at the
They rolled and tied him around the waist
him most him barbarously

They hired men with the pitchforks
to him to the heart.
And the loader he has served him worse that,
for he's him to the cart.

Well, wheeled him round and round the field
Till they came a barn
And they made their solemn oath
a Barleycorn

They hired men with the crab tree
to split him from bone, yeah,
but the miller he has served him worse than
for he ground him two stones.

Well, there's beer all in the and brandy in the glass
But little old Sir with his nut-brown bowl
Proved the man at last
Barleycorn, throw him up, throw him up

Now the huntsman, he can't the fox
Nor loudly blow his
And the tinker, he mend his pots
Without John

Barleycorn, John Barleycorn
Barleycorn,
Barleycorn, John Barleycorn