Barbara Allen

In Scarlet Town, where I was born,

There was a fair maid dwellin',

Made ev'ry 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 Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay

For love of Barb'ra Allen.

Then slowly, slowly she came up,

And slowly she came nigh him,

And all she said when there she came

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

As she was walking o'er the fields

She heard the dead-bell knellin',

And ev'ry stroke the dead-bell gave

Cried "Woe to Barb'ra Allen!"

When he was dead and laid in grave

Her heart was struck with sorrow.

"O mother, mother, make my bed,

For I shall die tomorrow."

"Farewell," she said, "ye virgins all,

And shun the fault I fell in;

Henceforth take warning by the fall

Of cruel Barb'ra Allen."