minstrel: Help out a bard, Okay?

Charissa ladycharissa at geocities.com
Sun Mar 2 14:07:05 PST 1997

J. Michael Shew wrote:

>         Is there anyone with the words to "Barbra Allen?"

I have several versions, but the only one I have handy is the one I have
on my webpage- here it is!
I knew a version with two last verses involving the old buried next to
each other and a rose and a brier grow out of them thingie... but, I
couldn't remember it right, and tried to fudge them for the version on
my web page... and it ended up sounding really bad... so I don't quote
them here ;)  If anyone has a good set of these lyrics, I'd appreciate

Barbara Allen

In Glasgow town where I was born 
There was a fair maid dwellin' 
Made ev'ry youth cry well'a'day 
Her name was Barbara Allan.

Twas in the merry month of May, 
When green buds they were swellin' 
Sweet William on his death-bed lay 
For love of Barbara Allan.

He sent his servant to the town, 
He sent him to her dwellin'. 
O, haste and come to my master dear 
An your name be Barbara Allan.

For death is printed on his face 
And sorrow's in him dwellin'. 
So haste and come to my master dear 
An your name be Barbara Allan.

If death be printed on his face 
And sorrow's in him dwellin, 
then little better shall he be 
For bonny Barbara Allan.

O hooly hooly she rose up 
And hooly she drew nigh him. 
And when she drew the curtain by, 
Young man I think you're dyin'

O tis I'm sick and very very sick 
And tis all for Barbara Allan. 
O the better for my ye's never be, 
Tho your heart's blood be a-spillin.

O, dinna ye mind, young man, said she, 
When ye was in the tavern drinkin' 
And ye made the healths go round and round 
And ye slighted Barbara Allan.

He turned his face unto the wall, 
And death was with him dealing: 
Adieu, Adieu my dear friends all 
And be kind to Barbara Allan.

Then hooly hooly she got up 
And hooly hooly left him 
And sighing said, she could not stay, 
Since death of life had reft him.

She had not gone a mile but twa, 
When she heard the deathbell knellin'. 
And every jow that the death bell gave 
Cried, Woe to Barbara Allan!

She turned herself around about 
And spied the corpse a-comin': 
Lay down, lay down the corpse of clay 
That I may look upon him. 

And all the while she looked on 
So loudly she lay laughing 
While all her friends cried out amain, 
Oh, cruel Barbara Allan!

A hardhearted creature that I was, 
To slight one that loved me so dearly; 
I wish I had been kinder to him, 
Now his death has quite undone me.

Oh, mother mother make my bed. 
Make it soft and narrow. 
Sweet William died for me today 
And I shall die tomorrow.

And father, father dig my grave. 
Dig it long and narrow. 
My true love died for me today, 
I'll die for him tomorrow.

Si hoc signum legere potes, operis boni in rebus Latinus alacribus et
fructuosis potiri potes!

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