There was three kings into the east,
Three kings both great and high,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn should die.

Трех королей разгневал он,
И было решено,
Что навсегда погибнет Джон
Ячменное Зерно.

They took a plough and plough'd him down,
Put clods upon his head,
And they hae sworn a solemn oath
John Barleycorn was dead.

Велели выкопать сохой
Могилу короли,
Чтоб славный Джон, боец лихой,
Не вышел из земли.

But the cheerful Spring came kindly on,
And show'rs began to fall;
John Barleycorn got up again,
And sore surpris'd them all.

Травой покрылся горный склон,
В ручьях воды полно,
А из земли выходит Джон
Ячменное Зерно.

The sultry suns of Summer came,
And he grew thick and strong;
His head weel arm'd wi' pointed spears,
That no one should him wrong.

Все так же буен и упрям,
С пригорка в летний зной
Грозит он копьями врагам,
Качая головой.

The sober Autumn enter'd mild,
When he grew wan and pale;
His bending joints and drooping head
Show'd he began to fail.

Но осень трезвая идет.
И, тяжко нагружен,
Поник под бременем забот,
Согнулся старый Джон.

His colour sicken'd more and more,
He faded into age;
And then his enemies began
To show their deadly rage.

Настало время помирать -
Зима недалека.
И тут-то недруги опять
Взялись за старика.

They've taen a weapon, long and sharp,
And cut him by the knee;
Then tied him fast upon a cart,
Like a rogue for forgerie.

Его свалил горбатый нож
Одним ударом с ног,
И, как бродягу на правеж,
Везут его на ток.

They laid him down upon his back,
And cudgell'd him full sore;
They hung him up before the storm,
And turned him o'er and o'er.

Дубасить Джона принялись
Злодеи поутру.
Потом, подбрасывая ввысь,
Кружили на ветру.

They filled up a darksome pit
With water to the brim;
They heaved in John Barleycorn,
There let him sink or swim.

Он был в колодец погружен,
На сумрачное дно.
Но и в воде не тонет Джон
Ячменное Зерно.

They laid him out upon the floor,
To work him farther woe;
And still, as signs of life appear'd,
They toss'd him to and fro.

They wasted, o'er a scorching flame,
The marrow of his bones;
But a miller us'd him worst of all,
For he crush'd him between two stones.

Не пощадив его костей,
Швырнули их в костер,
А сердце мельник меж камней
Безжалостно растер.

And they hae taen his very heart's blood,
And drank it round and round;
And still the more and more they drank,
Their joy did more abound.

Бушует кровь его в котле,
Под обручем бурлит,
Вскипает в кружках на столе
И души веселит.

John Barleycorn was a hero bold,
Of noble enterprise;
For if you do but taste his blood,
'Twill make your courage rise.

Недаром был покойный Джон
При жизни молодец, -
Отвагу подымает он
Со дна людских сердец.

'Twill make a man forget his woe;
'Twill heighten all his joy;
'Twill make the widow's heart to sing,
Tho' the tear were in her eye.

Он гонит вон из головы
Докучный рой забот.
За кружкой сердце у вдовы
От радости поет...

Then let us toast John Barleycorn,
Each man a glass in hand;
And may his great posterity
Ne'er fail in old Scotland!

Так пусть же до конца времен
Не высыхает дно
В бочонке, где клокочет Джон
Ячменное Зерно!