John Barleycorn – it’s a name that has for centuries appeared in lore and in song often with one caveat: he must die. While the 16th-century British folk narrative has ties to the region’s ancient lore, the exact origins of “John Barleycorn” are unknown. The character has been passed down time and again with a traditional folk song-turned-rock standard evolving from poet Robert Burn’s 1782 version of the tale. His poem would become the model for the song we hear in the modern day.
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While it has transformed over the years, receiving a more modern take with each new rendition, the tune is still being recorded, one of the most famous versions being Traffic’s 1970 prog-rock release. However, no matter how many iterations of “John Barleycorn” exist, the questions remain. Who is John Barleycorn and why must he die?
Behind the Song
There were three men came out of the West, Traffic’s version of “John Barleycorn” plays, Their fortunes for to try / And these three men made a solemn vow: / John Barleycorn must die.
While John Barleycorn is portrayed throughout the song as a tortured figure who ultimately meets his demise, he’s not a person at all. John Barleycorn is instead the personification of the grain, barley, itself. Each verse, detailing the attacks and indignities inflicted upon him, actually describes the various stages of cultivation, sowing barley only to reap it and malt it for whiskey or beer.
They’ve plowed, they’ve sown, they’ve harrowed him in / Threw clods upon his head, one verse plays, paralleling the first steps of the planting process. They’ve let him lie for a very long time / Till the rains from heaven did fall / And little Sir John sprung up his head, another verse details.
Once John Barleycorn begins to stand tall and straight, Till he looked both pale and wan / And little Sir John’s grown a long, long beard / And so become a man, he is then cut down at the knee, or harvested. The song continues to describe John Barleycorn’s fate, in torturous detail, as he’s processed and prepared for his intended purpose.
They’ve hired men with the crab-tree sticks, the tune carries on gruesomely, To cut him skin from bone / And the miller he has served him worse than that / For he’s ground him between two stones. After all the torment, it was John Barleycorn who proved the strongest man at last as he takes on a new form in someone’s brandy glass.
The song ends, praising John Barleycorn for The huntsman, he can’t hunt the fox / Nor so loudly to blow his horn / And the tinker he can’t mend kettle nor pot / Without a little Barleycorn.
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