I had a dream the other night
I'll tell the world it was a fright
I had a sort of conversation with a ghost to his delight
He said "I've come back to say
They thought they buried me to stay
In 1916 deep in a grave green
But listen to me while I say:

I'm the ghost of that good man John Barleycorn
In the days of ancient history I was born
Now rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief
I brought them joy that turned into grief
Hip! Sip! Hip! Sip!
Ah that's the time they start to slip
Then with my well-known kick I knock 'em out
They'd wake up with a brown taste in their mouth

Now in my dream it seems I said
"Say please, don't hang around my bed
Because I know your reputation; of your capers I have read"
He said "I break up many homes
And poets knock me in their poems
But like a villian I'm always willin'
To whip a Smith, a Brown, or Jones"

I'm the ghost of that good man John Barleycorn
In the days of ancient history I was born
Now rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief
I brought them joy that turned into grief
Hip! Sip! Hip! Sip!
Ah that's the time they start to slip
Then with my well-known kick I knock 'em out
They'd wake up with a brown taste in their mouth

Now Mister Volstead on me hung a crepe
But while there's still a "still", my spirit's great
For I'm the ghost of that good man John Barleycorn
I'm the corn