The wheel turns and Lammas invites
With sultry days and soft scented nights.
But who is yon figure so sad and forlorn
Who goes by the name of John Barleycorn.
So sad he wanders with heart so heavy
Among His children, a price soon to levy.
Death beckons him come, come to his court
The scythe swings and cuts him short.
To lie in the field all bloody and torn
And so ends the life of John Barleycorn.
Then the miracle, amazed you will be
Alive John dances for you and for me.
So we celebrate His life so freely given
In nut brown ale from his body riven.
But don’t ignore the wind that shakes
And moves the fields of golden barley.
It might just be John riding the range,
Sitting astride his Electra glide Harley.
Pangur-ban Lammas 2010