Hello and welcome to The Compost Bin. I'm Compostwoman and I live with my family in rural Herefordshire. We have nearly four acres of garden and woodland, all managed organically and to Permaculture principles, which we share with Chickens, Cats and assorted wildlife. We also grow a lot of our own food, run courses in all sorts of things and make a lot of compost!
I am a Master Composter and have spent more than a decade as a volunteer Community Compost adviser with Garden Organic and my local Council.
I'm a self employed Environmental Educator so I run workshops and events where I talk about compost, veg growing, chicken keeping, cooking, preserving and sustainable living. I also run crafts workshops and Forest School/outdoor play sessions in our wood.
We try to live a more self sufficient lifestyle here, as best we can, while still having a comfortable life and lots of fun.
To learn more about us click on the About Compostwoman tab and remember to click on the photos to make them full size!
Tuesday, 3 August 2010
Lyrics to John Barleycorn
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 ploughed, 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 waist
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 unto a barn
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
with out a little barley corn
(traditional)
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ReplyDeleteHello! Here is the link to my new blog address. Thank you!
ReplyDeletehttp://threelittlebearsstonecottage.blogspot.com/
It was rather interesting for me to read this blog. Thanx for it. I like such topics and anything that is connected to this matter. I would like to read a bit more soon.
ReplyDeleteBella Swenson
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