Beowa, Beaw, Beow, Beo or Bedwig is a figure in Anglo-Saxon paganism associated with barley and agriculture. The figure is attested in the Anglo-Saxon royal genealogies as they were extended in the age of Alfred, where Beowa is inserted as the son of Scyld and the grandson of Sceafa, in lineages carried back to Adam. Connections have been proposed between the figure of Beowa and the hero Beowulf of the poem of the same name and English folk song figure John Barleycorn.
Beow is an Old English word for barley. In the Anglo-Saxon genealogies, Beowa is the son or grandson of Sceafa, the Old English word for sheaf. The noun beow has an Old Norse parallel in Bygg, the word for "grain." Related comparisons have been made between the figure of Beow and Byggvir, attested in the Prose Edda as a servant of the god Freyr.
Some scholars posit a connection between the mythical figure of Beowa and the legendary Beowulf. As the two characters possess many of the same attributes, it has been suggested that "a god Beowa, whose existence in myth is certain, became confused or blended with Beowulf." Another possibility is that the (first) scribe responsible for the text conflated them: at the beginning of the poem, there is a character called Beowulf (not the Beowulf of the title) who appears in the family tree of Scyld Scefing; this "Bewowulf" is frequently changed to "Beow".J. R. R. Tolkien, one of the proponents of reading "Beow" here, suggested that the two scribes who produced the Beowulf manuscript were "both extremely ignorant of and careless with proper names", and called the occurrence of "Beowulf" in this place in the manuscript "one of the reddest and highest red herrings that were ever dragged across a literary trail".
Tomorrow's coming 'round
A hair-pin curve in the road
She's got a run in her stocking
And she's missing the heel of her shoe
Got up this morning rolled out of bed
I spilled a diet coke
Called my mother said, "Hi"
What I meant to say was, "Why is your life a joke?"
Then, I went down to that ugly bar and
I clicked my heels three times just like you said
And I climbed that road to your empty house
The anticipation was a turn on
But you let me down
'Coz, I stood on that empty street alone
I said, "I'm ready for my close up now, Mr. Demille"
I waited for the light, but it never shone
Well I wonder what you do with that expensive piece of land
That overlooks a billion years of history
I have a sneaking suspicion, you will never understand
Hey maybe I'll see you down by the Rocky and Bullwinkle
And we can talk to that charlatan psychic
And she can paint a prettier picture of your future
'Coz that day in my life, that day in my life
I dreamt tomorrow, had a prettier face
I dreamt tomorrow, would have better things to say
Than, "You look like shit, what's your problem, bitch?
You're legs feel like sandpaper, you can't do anything right"
'Coz that day, never should have taken place
'Coz this day, in my life still cannot explain
Why I listened in the first place to you?
Oh yeah, something else
I hope one day you call up your father
And you have the guts to tell him, how he hurt you
And he made you hurt another