Barbara Allen (1) Child 84
BARBARA ALLEN (1)
In Scarlet town where I was born
There was a fair maid dwelling,
Made every youth cry, "Well amay,"
And her name was Barbara Allen.
All in the merry month of May
When the green leaves were a-swelling,
Sweet William came from the western states
And courted Barbara Allen.
It was early in the Month of June
When all things they were blooming,
Sweet William on his death bed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his servant to the town,
Where Babara was a-dwelling,
"My master is sick and send for you,
If your name be Barbara Allen."
"And death is painted on his face,
And o'er his heart is stealing,
Then hasten away to comfort him,
Oh lovely Barbara Allen."
So slowly, slowly she got up,
And slowly she came nigh him,
And all she said when she got there,
"Young man I think you're dying."
"Oh yes, I'm sick and very sick
And death is on me dwelling,
No better, no better will I ever be,
If I can't have Barbara Allen.
"Oh yes, you're sick and very sick,
And death is on you dwelling,
No better, no better will you ever be,
For you can't have Barbara Allen."
"Oh don't you remember in yonder town ,
When you were at the tavern,
You drank a health to the ladies all around
And slighted Barbara Allen?"
As she was on the highway home,
The birds they kept a -singing,
They sang so clear, they seemed to say,
"Hard-hearted Barbara Allen."
As she was walking through the fields,
She heard the death bell knelling
And every stroke did seem to say,
"Hard-hearted Barbara Allen."
She looked to the East, she looked to the West,
She spied the corpses coming.
"Lay down, lay down that corpse of clay,
That I may look upon him."
The more she looked, the more she mourned,
Till she fell on the ground a-crying,
Saying, "Take me up, and carry me home,
For I am now a-dying."
"Oh Mother, Mother, dig my grave,
And make it long and narrow
Sweet William died for me today,
I will die for him tomorrow."
"Oh Father, Father, dig my grave,
And dig it long and narrow
Sweet William died for me today,
I will die for him tomorrow."
She was buried in the old churchyard,
And he was buried a-nigh her,
On William's grave grew a red, red, rose,
On Barbara's grew a green briar.