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The Sir John Barleycorn is a hidden gem tucked away on the edge of Oughtonhead Common.
It is just 5mins away from the main town off Bedford Road. Turn left at traffic lights just after Esso garage.
CONSIDERED TO BE THE OLDEST 'PUBLIC HOUSE' IN HITCHIN
It is a friendly, local pub with a real fire and warm welcome that has served the community for nearly 200yrs.
We are a true local community pub with all the following:
DARTS - Monday Nights
QUIZ - Tuesdays
CRIB - Thursdays in Summer
DOMINOES - Thursdays in Winter
LIVE MUSIC - See What's On
SPORT ON TV - See sports section
We are pleased to have sponsored and supported over the years:
HITCHIN CRICKET CLUB
BLUEHARTS HOCKEY CLUB
HITCHIN TOWN FOOTBALL CLUB
THE SIR JOHN BARLEYCORN is named after an English folksong. The character of John Barleycorn in the song is a personification of the important cereal crop barley and of the alcoholic beverages made from it, beer and whisky.
Some scholars have drawn links between Beowa (a mythical figure stemming from Anglo-Saxon paganism that appears in early Anglo-Saxon royal genealogies whose name means "barley") and the figure of John Barleycorn.
The earliest written version of the song is in the Bannatyne Manuscript of 1568, and English broadside versions from the 17th century are common. Robert Burns published his own version in 1782, which is set out below:
There was three men come out of the West Their fortunes for to try
And these three men made a solemn vow John Barleycorn must die.
They ploughed, they sowed, they harrowed him in Throwing clods all on his head
And these three men made a solemn vow John Barleycorn was Dead.
They've left him in the ground for a very long time
Till the rains from heaven did fall
Then little Sir John's sprung up his head And so amazed them all
They've left him in the ground till the Midsummer
Till he's grown both pale and wan
Then little Sir John's grown a long, long beard And so become a man.
They hire'd men with their scythes so sharp To cut him off at the knee.
They've bound him and tied him around the waist
Serving him most barb'rously.
They hire'd men with their sharp pitch-forks To prick him to the heart
But the drover he served him worse than that
For he's bound him to the cart.
They've rolled him around and around the field
Till they came unto a barn
And there they made a solemn mow
Of Little Sir John Barleycorn
They've hire'd men with their crab-tree sticks
To strip him skin from bone
But the miller, he served him worse than that,
For he's ground him between two stones.
Here's Little sir John in the nut-brown bowl
And brandy in the glass
But Little Sir John in the nut-brown bowl's
Proved the stronger man at last
For the hunts man he can't hunt the fox Nor so loudly blow his horn
And the tinker, he can't mend Kettles or pots
Without a little of Sir John Barleycorn.
|Sir John Barleycorn Oughtonhead Way Hitchin Herts SG5 2JZ|
Tel:01462 459074 Fax:- Email:email@example.com
Copyright © Sir John Barleycorn 2013