There were three men, came out of the west
Their fortunes fought to try
And these three men made a solemn vow
Jambalikorn must die
They've ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in
Threw cloths upon his head
And these three men made a solemn vow
Jambalikorn was dead
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
And so it was
They've amazed them all
They've let him stand till midsummer's day
Till he looked both pale and broad
And little Sir John's grown a long, long beard
And so become a man



They've hired men
With the sights of a man
They've hired men
With the sights of a man
So sharp
To cut him off at the knee
They've rolled him and tied him by the way
Serving him most barbarously
They've hired men
With the sharpest forks
Who pricked him to death
To the heart
And the loader, he has served him worse than that
For he's bound into the car
Music plays
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Music plays
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Music plays
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Music plays
Music plays
Music plays
On poor John Bartlett Cone
They've hired men with a crowned G6
To cut your skin from bone
And the Miller, he has served him worse than that
For he's ground him between two stones
And little Sir John and the nut-brown wall
And he's brandy in the glass
And little Sir John and the nut-brown wall
Who the strongest man at last
The huntsman he got
Oh!
And the fox, no so loudly to blow his horn
And the tinker he can't mend kettle nor pot
Without a little barley comb