Barbara Allen- Neill (NC) c. 1930 Lunsford E
[My date and designation: version E (there are 7 versions in this collection; one version by Beatrice Dorsey was obviously copied from print and will not be included). From the Southern Appalachian Archives, Liston B. Ramsey Center for Regional Studies, Mars Hill University; Bascom Lamar Lunsford Collection, Box 69, Folder B;
Probably from the School Collection taken from students at local schools from c. 1925-1935. Minor editing for spelling, capitalization and punctuation.
R. Matteson 2015]
Barbara Allen - contributed by Aileen Neill of Mills River, Henderson Co., NC.
There were three maids, there were three maids
There were three maids a dwelling;
There was but one I called my own
Her name was Barbara Allen
Her name was Barbara Allen.
'Twas in the pleasant month of May,
When the flowers were all blooming,
Young William on his deathbed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen,
For the love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his servant to the town
To the place where she was dwellin[g]
My master's sick and sends for you
If your name be Barbara Allen
If your name be Barbara Allen.
And death is painted on his cheek
And o'er his heart a stealing
Oh, haste, O, haste, O, haste to him
Oh lovely Barbara Allen
Oh, lovely Barbara Allen
So slowly, slowly rose she up
And slowly went unto him,
And all she said while there she stood,
Young man I think you're dying
Young man I think you're dying.
He turned his pale face to the wall
His back upon his darling,
Adieu, adieu to the ladies 'round
Adieu to Barbara Allen
Adieu to Barbara Allen.
As she drew nearer to his side
She bursted out a crying
I could have saved this young man's lif[e]
If I had said I loved him
If I had said I loved him
She scarce had got one mile from town
Till she heard his death bell ringing,
She looked to the east, she looked to the west,
And saw his cold corpse coming
And saw his cold corpse coming.
Oh! mother, mother make my bed
Make it long and narrow.
Young William died for me to-day
I'll die for him tomorrow
I'll die for him tomorrow.
Young William died on Saturday,
Barbara died on Sunday,
Their parents died for they loved them both
And they buried them on Monday
And they buried them on Monday.
They buried them in the old churchy[ard]
Close beside of each other
Out of William's grave there grew a ro[se]
And out of Barbara's a briar
And out of Barbara's a briar.
They grew, they grew to the steeple top
Till they could grow no higher.
They linked and tied in a true love's knot
For all young lovers to admire
For all young lovers to admire.