Sir John in his castle without leave or law And suck out his blood with a reed or a straw Ere he'd soak at the swipes--and he turned him to start, Till the host for high treason came down a full quart. Just then passed the dandy and turned up his nose: They'd fain have him shove, but he looked at his clothes And nipt his nose closer and twirled his stick round And simpered, Tis nuisance to lie on the ground. But Bacchus, he laughed from the old tavern sign, Saying, Go on, thou shadow, and let the sun shine.
Then again they all tried, and the tinker he swore That the hogshead had grown twice as heavy or more. Nay nay, said the toper, and reeled as he spoke, We're all getting weak, that's the end of the joke. The ploughman came up and cut short his old tune, Hallooed "woi" to his horses and though it was June Said he'd help them an hour ere he'd keep them adry; Well done, said the blacksmith with hopes running high; He moves, and, by jingo, success to the plough! Aye aye, said the cobbler, we'll conquer him now.
The hogshead rolled forward, the toper fell back, And the host laughed aloud as his sides they would crack To see the old tinker's toil make such a gap In his coat as to rend it from collar to flap. But the tinker he grumbled and cried Fiddle-dee! This garment hath been an old tenant with me; And a needle and thread with a little good skill When I've leisure will make it stand more weathers still. Then crack went his breeks from the hip to the knee With his thrusting--no matter; for nothing cared he.
So long as Sir John rolled along to the door, He's a chip of our block, said the blacksmith, and swore; And as sure as I live to drive nails in a shoe He shall have at my cost a full pitcher or two. And the toper he hiccuped--which hindered an oath-- So long as he'd credit, he'd pitcher them both. But the host stopt to hint when he'd ordered the dray Sir Barleycorn's order was purchase and pay. And now the old knight is imprisoned and ta'en To waste in the tavern man's cellar again.
And now, said the blacksmith, let forfeits come first For the insult swipes offered, or his hoops I will burst. Here it is, my old hearties--Then drink your thirst full, Said the host, for the stingo is worth a strong pull. Never fear for your legs if they're broken to-day; Winds only blow straws, dust, and feathers away. But the cask that is full, like a giant he lies, And giants alone can his spirits capsize. If he lies in the path, though a king's coming bye, John Barleycorn's mighty and there he will lie.