Una versione acustica di Steve Winwood:

da radiogas:

John Barleycorn Must Die – brano che da il titolo ad un album dei Traffic che passerà alla storia come una delle pagine più affascinanti della storia del rock – attinge direttamente dalla tradizione contadina ed in particolar modo da un rito molto antico, quello della mietitura del grano. Il grano, una volta cresciuto, doveva essere mietuto; il taglio dell’ultima parte restante e la fasciatura di quest’ultima (covone) rappresentava la morte dello “spirito del grano”. Metaforicamente parlando questo rito altro non era che il naturale ciclo della vita, perché solo con la morte dello “spirito del grano” poteva avvenire la rinascita. John Barleycorn – canzone popolare diffusa in Inghilterra e Scozia – vanta centinaia di versioni. Gruppi cardine della scena folk come Pentangle, Fairport Convention, John Reinbourn Group piuttosto che Steleeye Span o Jethro Tull l’hanno reinterpretata, ma su tutte, la versione che ci viene in mente quando pensiamo a questo brano della tradizione è sicuramente quella dei Traffic.

Giro armonico:

Capo al VII

[   D   ][  C G  ][   A-   ][       ] [:   D   ][  A-    ][  C  G  ][  A-   ][      ] [    D   ][  C G  ][   A-    ][        :] [    C    ][     G ][   A-   ][        ] [    C    ][   D   ][   E4   ][        ][   E     ] [    D   ][  A-    ][  C  G  ][  A-   ][      ] [    D   ][  C G ][  A-    ][        ]

There were three men came out of the west, their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn must die
They’ve plowed, they’ve sown, they’ve harrowed him in
Threw clods upon his head
And these three men made a solemn vow
John Barleycorn was dead

They’ve let him lie for a very long time, ‘til the rains from heaven did fall
And little Sir John sprung up his head and so amazed them all
They’ve let him stand ‘til Midsummer’s Day ‘til he looked both pale and wan
And little Sir John’s grown a long long beard and so become a man
They’ve hired men with their scythes 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 their sharp pitchforks who’ve pricked him to the heart
And the loader he has served him worse than that
For he’s bound him to the cart

They’ve wheeled him around and around a field ‘til they came onto a pond
And there they made a solemn oath on poor John Barleycorn
They’ve hired men with their crabtree sticks to cut him 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 bowl and his brandy in the glass
And little Sir John and the nut brown bowl proved the strongest man at last
The huntsman he can’t hunt the fox nor so loudly to blow his horn
And the tinker he can’t mend kettle or pots without a little barleycorn

ilGallo

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