Sir John Grehme and Barbara Allan- Percy 1765 Child A b.
[Child gives these corrections from A a. in the End Notes to make A b.:
A. b. 1[3. o the.
4[4. a, wanting.
5[1. Remember ye nat in the tavern, sir.
5[2. Whan ye the cups wer fillan.
5[3. How ye.
6[4. And, wanting.
7[1. Then hooly, hooly.
7[2. And hooly, hooly.
8[2. deid-bell knellan.
8[3. that wanting.
8[4. It, wanting.
9[4. I'se.
There are are some other minor changes from A a.
Sir John Grehme and Barbara Allan- 1765 Child A b. Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, 131
It was in and about the Martinmas time,
When the greene leaves wer a fallan:
That Sir John Grehme o' the west countrye,
Fell in luve wi' Barbara Allan.
He sent his man down throw the towne,
To the plaice wher she was dwellan:
O haste and cum to my maister deare,
Gin ye bin Barbara Allan.
O hooly, hooly raise she up,
To the plaice wher he was lyan; 10
And whan she drew the curtain by,
Young man, I think ye're dyan'.
O its I'm sick, and very very sick,
And its a' for Barbara Allan.
O the better for me ye'se never be,
Though your harts blude wer spillan.
Remember ye nat in the tavern, sir,
Whan ye the cups wer fillan;
How ye made the healths gae round and round,
And slighted Barbara Allan?
He turn'd his face unto the wa',
And death was with him dealan;
Adiew! adiew! my dear friends a',
Be kind to Barbara Allan.
Then hooly, hooly raise she up,
And hooly, hooly left him;
And sighan said, she could not stay,
Since death of life had reft him.
She had not gane a mile but twa,
Whan she heard the deid-bell knellan;
And everye jow the deid-bell geid,
Cried, Wae to Barbara Allan!
O mither, mither, mak my bed,
O mak it saft and narrow:
Since my love died for me to day,
Ise die for him to morrowe.
----------
From: Percy's Reliques, 1765, III, p. 131
SIR JOHN GREHME AND BARBARA ALLAN.
A SCOTTISH BALLAD.
Printed, with a few conjectural emendations, from a written copy.
It was in and about the Martinmas time,
When the greene leaves wer a fallan:
That Sir John Grehme o' the west countrye,
Fell in luve wi' Barbara Allan.
He sent his man down throw the towne, 5
To the plaice wher she was dwellan:
O haste and cum to my maister deare,
Gin ye bin Barbara Allan.
O hooly, hooly raise she up,
To the plaice wher he was lyan; 10
And whan she drew the curtain by,
Young man, I think ye're dyan'. [1]
O its I'm sick, and very very sick,
And its a' for Barbara Allan.
O the better for me ye'se never be, 15
Though your harts blude wer spillan.
Remember ye nat in the tavern, sir,
Whan ye the cups wer fillan;
How ye made the healths gae round and round,
And slighted Barbara Allan? 20
He turn'd his face unto the wa',
And death was with him dealan;
Adiew! adiew! my dear friends a',
Be kind to Barbara Allan.
Then hooly, hooly raise she up, 25
And hooly, hooly left him;
And sighan said, she could not stay,
Since death of life had reft him.
She had not gane a mile but twa,
Whan she heard the deid-bell knellan; 30
And everye jow the deid-bell geid,
Cried, Wae to Barbara Allan!
O mither, mither, mak my bed,
O mak it saft and narrow:
Since my love died for me to day, 35
Ise die for him to morrowe.
Footnote:
1. An ingenious friend thinks the rhymes dyand and lyand ought to be transposed; as the taunt, 'Young man, I think ye're lyand,' would be very characteristical.