Bonny Barbara Allan- Broadside; Boston 1829
[L. Deming was one of the early broadside publishers and an entry at Google books gives the following information: Wife, Children & Friends; Together with Bonny Barbara Allan gives Sold wholesale and retail, by L. Deming, corner of Merchant's Row and Market Square, Boston., 1829. This is important because the 1929 date is one of the earliest known printed versions in the US (In 1917 Kittredge reported a version c. 1820). This is a reprint with minor changes of Child A from The Tea-Table Miscellany, IV, 46, ed. 1740. This version was reissued in the 1845 Sounthern Warbler with minor spelling differences.
R. Matteson 2012]
Another print from The Library of Congress of Bonny Barbara Allan L. Deming is not dated: 
BONNY BARBARA ALLAN- Broadside; Boston 1829; Sold Wholesale and Retail, by L. Deming corner of Merchant's Row & Market Square , Boston.
IT was in and about the Martimas time,
When the green leaves were a falling,
That Sir John Graeme in the west country
Fell in love with Barbara Allan.
He sent his man down through the town,
To the place where she was dwelling,
O haste, and come to my master dear,
Gin ye be Barbara Allan.
O hooly, hooly rose she up.
To the place where he was lying,
And when she drew the curtain by,
Young man, I think you're dying.
O it’s I’m sick, and very sick,
And ’tis a’ for Barbara Allan,
O the better for me ye’s never be,
Tho’ your heart’s blood were a spilling.
O dinna ye mind, young man, said she,
When ye was in the tavern a drinking,
That ye made the healths gae round & round
And slighted Barbara Allan.
He turn’d his face unto the wall,
And death was with him dealing;
Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
And be kind to Barbara Allan.
And slowly, slowly rose she up,
And slowly, slowly left him;
And sighing, said, she could not stay,
Since death of life had reft him.
She had not gane a mile but twa,
When she heard the death-bell ringing,
And every jow that the dead-bell gied,
It cry’d, Wo to Barbara Allan.
O mother, mother, make my bed,
O make it saft and narrow,
Since my love dy’d for me to-day,
I’ll die for him to-morrow.