Here's one that seems to be a halfway house between the John Barleycorn cycle and the Nipperkin and the Brown Bowl cycle.

BARLEY MOW

Well, we ploughed the land and we planted it
And we watched the barley grow
We rolled it and we harrowed it
And we cleaned it with a hoe
Then we waited till the farmer said
"It's time for harvest now
Get out your scythes and sharp 'em, boys,
It's time for barley mow"

Well, here's luck to barley mow
And the land that makes it grow
We'll drink to Old John Barleycorn
Here's luck to barley mow.
So fill up all of the glasses lads
And stand them in a row
A gill, a half-a-pint, a pint, a pint and a quart
And here's luck to barley mow.

Well, we went and mowed the barley
And we left it on the ground.
We left it in the sun and rain
Till it was nicely brown.
Then one day off to the maltster then
John Barleycorn did go.
The day he went away we all did say
"Here's luck to barley mow."

Have no fear of young John Barleycorn
When he's as green as grass
But Old John Barleycorn is strong enough
To set you on your ass.
But there's nothing better ever brewed
Than we are drinking now
Fill them up, we'll have another round
Here's luck to barley mow.

"Now if you were in Debenham 'Cherry Tree' about sixty years ago, about nine o'clock on a Saturday night, you'd get Barley Mow. Now if you were down there now and sung it, I don't suppose anybody there would know it."

From Songs sung in Suffolk, Vol 3. Veteran Tapes VT103. (Field recordings 1985-87 by John Howson). Sung by Fred Whiting of Kenton, Suffolk.