Barbara Allen- Atwood (VT) pre-1964 MacArthur
[From the Margaret MacArthur Collection. Recorded and sung by Fred Atwood, July 16, 1964 as learned from his father, James Atwood (featured in Folk Songs of Vermont, 1919), who certainly knew it well back into the 1800s.
“OT2003-3013-006 -- Barbara Allen,” Vermont Folklife Center Digital Collections: http://www.vermontfolklifecenter.org/digital-archive/collections/items/show/1144
R. Matteson 2015]
Barbara Allen - sung by Fred Atwood, Marlboro, VT 1964
Twas in the merry month of May
When all the fields were blooming
A young man on his death bed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen
He sent his little 'prentice boy
To the place where she was dwelling
Saying "Master says you must come home [Atwood stutters] here
If your name be Barbara Allen."
So slowly she put on her clothes
So slowly she went to him
And all she said when she came there
"Young man I think you're dying."
"For death is sprinkled on your face
And sorrow in your dwelling
But better off should I be there
If her name was Barbara Allen."
"Don't you remember the other day
Back at the last station
You drank your health to the maids all round
And slighted Barbara Allen."
He turned his face unto the wall
His back unto the maiden
"Adieu adieu to my friends all
And woe to Barbara Allen."
She had not gone three miles from town
She heard the church bell tolling
And every toll it seemed to roll,
"O cruel Barbara Allen."
She looked east and she came west
And saw a funeral coming,
Saying "Set thee down the cold corpse of clay
That I may look upon him."
"For cruel is my name," said she
"And cruel is my nature
I might have saved this young man's life
By doing my endeavor."
The fairest young man in all New York
Died for John Allen's daughter
The fairest young lady in this town
Will soon follow after.
He dug [Atwood stutters] "Go dig my grave both long and deep
Go dig it straight and narrow
This young man died for me today
I'd die for him tomorrow
The young man was buried [1]
And she was buried beside him
And out of his grave grew a bright red rose
And out of her grew a briar
They grew up to the mountaintop [2]
Where they could grow no higher
They tied them in a true lover's knot
And withered away together.
1. I suspect that the rest of this line was forgotten: add possibly, "in the old church yard,"
2. Probably forgotten: "steeple top" or "church top"