XXXVII.

"THE LITTLE BARLEY-CORN :

Whose properties and vertues here
Shall plainly to the world appeare;
To make you merry all the ycere."

To the tune of Stingo.

COME, and do not musing stand,

If thou the truth discern;
But take a full cup in thy hand
And thus begin to learn,
Not of the earth nor of the air,

At evening or at morn,

But jovial boys your Christmas keep
With the little barley-corn.

It is the cunningest alchymist
That e'er was in the land,

"Twill change your mettle when it list,

In turning of a hand.

Your blushing gold to silver wan,

Your silver into brass;

"Twill turn a taylor to a man,

And a man into an ass.

"Twill make a poor man rich to hang A sign before his door,

And those that do the pitcher bang, Though rich, 'twill make them poor, "Twill make the silliest poorest snake The King's great porter scorn; "Twill make the stoutest lubber weak, This little barley-corn.

It hath more shifts than Lamb e'er had,
Or Hocus-pocus too;

It will good fellows shew more sport
Than Bankes his horse could do:
"Twill play you fair above the board,
Unless you take good heed,

And fell you, though you were a lord,
And justify the deed.

It lends more years unto old age,
Than e'er was lent by nature;
It makes the poet's fancy rage,
More than Castalian water.

"Twill make a huntsman chase a fox,

And never wind his horn;

"Twill cheer a tinker in the stocks,

This little barley-corn.

It is the only Will o' the Wisp
Which leads men from the way;
Twill make the tongue-tied lawyer lisp,
And nought but hic-up say.

Twill make the steward droop and stoop,

His bill he then will scorn,

And at each post cast his reckoning up, This little barley-corn.

Twill make a man grow jealous soon,
Whose pretty wife goes trim,
And rail at the deceiving moon
For making horns at him :

"Twill make the maiden's trimly dance,

And take it in no scorn,

And help them to a friend by chance,
This little barley-corn.

It is the neatest serving-man,
To entertain a friend;

It will do more than money can
All jarring suits to end.
There's life in it, and it is here,

'Tis here within this cup;

Then take your liquor, do not spare,
But clear carouse it up.

"The Second Part of the little Barley-Corn, That cheareth the heart both evening and morne.”

If sickness come this physick take,

It from your heart will set it,

If fear encroach, take more of it,
Your heart will soon forget it.
Apollo and the Muses nine

Do take it in no scorn,

There's no such stuff to pass the time
As the little barley-corn.

"Twill make a weeping willow laugh,
And soon incline to pleasure;
"Twill make an old man leave his staff,
And dance a youthful measure;
And though your clothes be ne'er so bad,
All ragged, rent, and torn,
Against the cold you may be clad

With little barley-corn.

"Twill make a coward not to shrink,

But be as stout as may be,

"Twill make a man that he shall think

That Joan's as good as my lady.

It will enrich the palest face,
And with rubies it adorn,

Yet you shall think it no disgrace,
This little barley-corn.

"Twill make your gossips merry,
When they their liquor see,
Hey, we shall ne'er be weary,
Sweet gossip here's to thee;
"Twill make the country yeoman
The courtier for to scorn;
And talk of law-suits o'er a can
With this little barley-corn.

It makes a man that write cannot
To make you large indentures,
When as he reeleth home at night,
Upon the watch he ventures;
He cares not for the candle-light,
That shineth in the horn,
Yet he will stumble the way aright

This little barley-corn.

"Twill make a miser prodigall,

And shew himself kind hearted, "Twill make him never grieve at all That from his coin hath parted,