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American Airmen enjoy a pint after their picnic at the Sir John Barleycorn Cadnam 






2Â÷ ¼¼°è´ëÀüÁß ¹Ì Ç×°ø´ë¿øµé(Captain R W Smith (from Pomona, California), Lieutenant J D Baird (from Suring, Wisconsin),

 Miss Kathleen Deane (from Connecticut and one of the American Red Cross hostesses working at the club) 

and Lieutenant E T Broadnax (from Bastrup, Louisiana).ÀÇ ¿µ±¹ ÇÜÇÁ¼ÅÁÖ Ä³µå³² Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜ ¼Òdz - 1943³â 



Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜ(John Barleycorn)Àº ¸Õ ¿¾³¯ºÎÅÍ ¿µ±¹ÀεéÀÌ Á×ÀÌ°í ½Íµµ·Ï Áõ¿ÀÇÏ´Â Àι°À̾ú´Ù. 

±×·¯³ª Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜ¿î Á׿©µµ Á׿©µµ ¶Ç »ì¾Æ³ª°í ¶Ç »ì¾Æ³ª´Â Àι°À̾ú´Ù

±×·¡¼­ °¡Àå ÀÜÀι«µµÇÑ ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î Á×ÀÌ°í ±× ½Ãü¸¶Àúµµ °¥¾Æ¸¶¼Å ¹ö¸°´Ù. 

¿µ±¹¿¡¼­ JohnÀº ÈçÇÑ À̸§ÀÌ°í, BarleycornÀº º¸¸®(barley)ÀÇ ³®¾Ë(corn)À» ¶æÇÑ´Ù. 

Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜÀº »ç½Ç º¸¸®ÀÇ ³®¾ËÀ» ÀÇÀÎÈ­ÇÑ Á¸Àç´Ù.

 ¿µ±¹¿¡¼­ º¸¸®´Â ¿¹·ÎºÎÅÍ ½Ä·®À¸·Îµµ, ¸ÆÁÖ³ª À§½ºÅ°ÀÇ ¿ø·á·Îµµ Áß¿äÇß´ø °î¹°À̾ú´Ù.  




¿µ±¹ÀÇ Àü¼³ÀûÀÎ  ·Ï¹êµå Æ®·¡ÇÈ(Traffic)ÀÇ º¸Äø®½ºÆ® ½ºÆ¼ºê À©¿ìµå°¡ ºÒ·¶´ø 

Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜÀº  ¿µ±¹ÀÇ ¹Î¿äÀÎ John BarleycornÀÌ ¿ø·ùÀÌ´Ù.

ÀÌ ³ë·¡´Â ³óºÎ°¡ º¸¸®¸¦ Ãß¼öÇÏ´Â °úÁ¤À» Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜÀ» Á×ÀÌ´Â °úÁ¤À¸·Î ¹¦»çÇÏ°í ÀÖ´Ù. 

Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜÀº ¿©·¯ ¾ÆƼ½ºÆ®µéÀÌ ºÒ·¶Áö¸¸ °¡Àå À¯¸íÇÑ °ÍÀº 1970³â Æ®·¡ÇÈÀÌ ºÎ¸¥ °îÀÌ´Ù.

±×¿Í ´õºÒ¾î Á¦¾²·Î Åø ±×·ìÀÌ 1992³â ±×¸®½º ¶óÀ̺꠽ÇȲ°ø¿¬¿¡¼­   

¸®´õ ÀÌ¾È ¾Ø´õ½¼ÀÇ Çø¡ ¿¬ÁÖ°¡ °¡¹ÌµÈ Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜÀ» ¸Ú ¶³¾îÁö°Ô ºÒ·¶´Ù. 



John Barleycorn -Traffic 



There were three men came out of the West, (¼­ÂÊ¿¡¼­ ¿Â ¼¼ ³²ÀÚ°¡ ÀÖ¾ú´Ù³×)

Their fortunes for to try, (±×µéÀÌ ÇÒ ÀÏÀº ¿î¸íÀ̾ú´Ù³×)

And these three men made a solemn vow: (±×¸®°í ±× ¼¼ ³²ÀÚ´Â ¾ö¼÷ÇÏ°Ô ¼±¾ðÇß³×)

John Barleycorn must die. (Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜÀº Á×¾î¾ß ÇÑ´Ù°í)


They've ploughed, they've sown, they've harrowed him in, (±×µéÀº Àï±â·Î ¹çÀ» °¥°í, ¾¾¾ÑÀ» ½É°í, ±× À§¿¡ ½á·¹ÁúÀ» Çß´Ù³×)

Threw clods upon his head, (Èëµ¢ÀÌ°¡ Á¸ÀÇ ¸Ó¸®¸¦ µ¤ÃÆ´Ù³×)

And these three men made a solemn vow: (±×¸®°í ¼¼ ³²ÀÚ´Â ¾ö¼÷ÇÏ°Ô ¼±¾ðÇß³×)

John Barleycorn was dead. (Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜÀº Á×¾ú´Ù°í)


They've let him lie for a very long time, (±×µéÀº ¾ÆÁÖ ¿À·§µ¿¾È Á¸À» (¶¥ ¼Ó¿¡) ´µ¾î ³õ¾Ò³×)

Till the rains from heaven did fall, (õ±¹¿¡¼­ ºñ°¡ ³»¸± ¶§±îÁö)

And little Sir John sprung up his head, (±×¸®°í ÀÛÀº Á¸ ¾¾°¡ °©Àڱ⠸Ӹ®¸¦ Ä¡Äѵé¾ú°í)

And so amazed them all. (¼¼ ³²ÀÚ´Â ±ô¦ ³î¶ú´Ù³×)


They've let him stand till midsummer's day, (±×µéÀº Á¸À» ÇÑ¿©¸§ÀÌ µÉ ¶§±îÁö ±×³É ¼¼¿ö ³õ¾Ò´Ù³×)

Till he looked both pale and wan, (±×(Á¸)°¡ â¹éÇÏ°í Æĸ®ÇØÁú ¶§±îÁö)

And little Sir John's grown a long, long beard, (±×¸®°í ÀÛÀº Á¸ ¾¾´Â ±ä ¼ö¿°À» ±æ·¶°í)

And so become a man. (±×·¡¼­ (¾î¿³ÇÑ) ³²ÀÚ°¡ µÇ¾ú´Ù³×)


They've hired men with the scythes so sharp, (±×µéÀº ¾ÆÁÖ ³¯Ä«·Î¿î ³´À» °¡Áø ³²ÀÚ¸¦ °í¿ëÇؼ­)

To cut him off at the knee, (Á¸À» ¹«¸­ ºÎºÐ¿¡¼­ Àß¶ó³» ¹ö·ÈÁö)

They've rolled him and tied him by the way, (±×µéÀº Á¸À» ±¼¸®°í ²Ç²Ç ¹­¾ú´Ù³×)

Serving him most barbarously. (Á¸À» °¡Àå ÀÜÀÎÇÑ ¹æ¹ýÀ¸·Î ´Ù·ç¾ú´Ù³×)


They've hired men with the sharp pitchforks, (±×µéÀº ³¯Ä«·Î¿î ¼è½º¶ûÀ» °¡Áø ³²ÀÚ¸¦ °í¿ëÇß°í)

Who pricked him to the heart, (±× ³²ÀÚ´Â Á¸ÀÇ ½ÉÀåÀ» Âñ·¶´Ù³×)

And the loader he has served him worse than that, (±×¸®°í Áü¼ö·¹´Â Á¸À» ´õ¿í Ȥµ¶ÇÏ°Ô ´Ù·ç¾î¼­)

For he's bound him to the cart (¼ö·¹¿¡ ²Ç²Ç ¹­¾î †ó¾Ò´Ù³×)


They've wheeled him around and around the field, (±×µéÀº Á¸À» ²ø°í µéÆÇÀ» ºùºù µ¹¾Ò´Ù³×)

Till they came unto a barn, (¾î´À Çê°£¿¡ ´Ù´Ù¸¦ ¶§±îÁö)

And there they made a solemn oath, (±×¸®°í ±×µéÀº ħÅëÇÏ°Ô ¸»Çß³×)

On poor John Barleycorn. (¿À, °¡¿²Àº Á¸ ¹ß¸®ÄÜÀÌ¿©)


They've hired men with the crab-tree sticks, (±×µéÀº ´É±Ý³ª¹« ¸·´ë±â¸¦ °¡Áø ³²ÀÚ¸¦ °í¿ëÇß°í)

To cut him skin from bone, (±×´Â Á¸ÀÇ »ìÀ» »À·ÎºÎÅÍ ¹ß¶ó³Â³×)

And the miller he has served him worse than that, (±×¸®°í ¸Ëµ¹Àº Á¸À» ´õ¿í Ȥµ¶ÇÏ°Ô ´Ù·ç¾î¼­)

For he's ground him between two stones. (Á¸À» µÎ °³ÀÇ µ¹ »çÀÌ¿¡ ³Ö°í °¡·ç·Î »¨¾Æ¹ö·È´Ù³×)


And little Sir John and the nut-brown bowl, (±×¸®°í ÀÛÀº Á¸°ú ¹ã»ö ±×¸©)

And he's brandy in the glass; (±×¸®°í Á¸Àº ¼úÀÜ ¼ÓÀÇ ºê·£µð[2]°¡ µÇ¾ú´Ù³×)

And little Sir John and the nut-brown bowl, (±×¸®°í ÀÛÀº Á¸°ú ¹ã»ö ±×¸©Àº)

Proved the strongest man at last. (¸¶Ä§³» Á¸ÀÌ °¡Àå °­ÇÑ ³²ÀÚ¶õ °ÍÀ» Áõ¸íÇß´Ù³×)


The huntsman, he can't hunt the fox, (»ç³É²ÛÀº ¿©¿ì¸¦ »ç³ÉÇÒ ¼öµµ ¾ø°í)

Nor so loudly to blow his horn, (³ªÆÈÀ» Å©°Ô ºÒ ¼öµµ ¾ø´Ù³×)

And the tinker he can't mend kettle nor pot, (±×¸®°í ¶«ÀåÀÌ´Â ÁÖÀüÀÚ°¡ ³¿ºñ¸¦ °íÄ¥ ¼öµµ ¾ø´Ù³×)

Without a little Barleycorn. (±× ÀÛÀº ¹ß¸®ÄÜÀÌ ¾ø´Ù¸é) 








photo from : www.newforestheritage.org


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