Barbara Allen
Twas in the merry month of May,
When the green buds were swellin'.
A young man on his deathbed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his servant to the town,
Sent him to her dwellin'.
"My master's sick and and he sends for you
If you are Barbara Allen."
Then slowly, slowly she got up
Slowly she went nigh him,
And all she said when she got there
was, "My true love, you're dyin'."
He turned his face unto the wall,
Death was in him dwellin'
"Adieu, adieu, to all my sweet friends all.
Be kind to Barbara Allen."
As she was walked down the road to home
She saw his hearse a'coming
"Oh, lay him down on the cold, cold ground
That I may gaze upon him."
"Oh mother, mother make my bed
Make it soft and narrow.
For my true love has died today.
I'll die for him tomorrow."
They buried her by the old church tower
Him they lay beside her,
And from her grave, grew a red, red rose,
And from his grave, grew a briar.
They grew to the top of the old church tower,
Till they could grow no higher,
And there they twined in a true love's knot,
The red, red rose and the briar.
