In Scarlet town where I was born,

There was a fair maid dwellin'

Made every youth cry Well-a-day,

Her name was Barb'ra Allen.


All in the merry month of May,

When green buds they were swellin'

Young Willie Grove on his death-bed lay,

For love of Barb'ra Allen.


He sent his servant to her door

To the town where he was dwellin'

Haste ye come, to my master's call,

If your name be be Barb'ra Allen.


So slowly, slowly got she up,

And slowly she drew nigh him,

And all she said when there she came:

"Young man, I think you're dying!"


He turned his face unto the wall

And death was drawing nigh him.

Good bye, Good bye to dear friends all,

Be kind to Bar'bra Allen


When he was dead and laid in grave,

She heard the death bell knelling.

And every note, did seem to say

Oh, cruel Barb'ra Allen


"Oh mother, mother, make my bed

Make it soft and narrow

Sweet William died, for love of me,

And I shall of sorrow."


They buried her in the old churchyard

Sweet William's grave was neigh hers

And from his grave grew a red, red rose

From hers a cruel briar.


They grew and grew up the old church spire

Until they could grow no higher

And there they twined, in a true love knot,

The red, red rose and the briar.

 

John Fitzsimmons, 15 Marlboro St. Maynard MA 01754
Tel. 978-793-1553  E-mail: fitz@johnfitz.co,

Barbara allen

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Barbara Allen

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