| lyric | 1. It was in and about the Mart'mas time
When the green leaves were afallin’,
THat Sir John Graeme, in the west country,
Fell in love wi’ Barb’ra Allen.
He sent his man down thro’ the town
To the place where she was dwallin’;
’O. haste and come to my master dear,
Gin ye be Barb’ra Allen.’
2. O, hooly, hooly, rase she up,
To the place where he was lyin’,
And when she drew the curtain by — ‘Young man, Ithink ye’re dyin’.’
‘It’s oh, I‘m sick, I’m very sick,
And it’s a’ for Barbara Allan’
‘0 the better for me ye’se never be,
Though your heart’s blude were a-spillin.’
3. O, dinna ye mind, young man,’ she said
‘When the red wine ye were fillin’,
That ye made the healths gae round and round,
And slichtit Barb’ra Allan !’
He turn'd his face unto the wa’,
And death was with him dealin’,
‘Adieu, adieu, my dear friends a’,
And be kind to Barb’ra Allan.’
4. And slowly, slowly rase she up
And slowly, slowly left him
And sighin’, said, she' could not stay
Since death of life had reft him,
She hadna gane a mile but twa,
When she heard the deid-bell knellin’
And every jow the deid-bell gi’ed,
It cried, ‘Wae to Barb’ra Allan.‘
(as second part of the tune)
‘Oh mother, mother, mak’ my bed,
And mak’ it saft and narrow;
Since my love died for me today,
I’ll die for him tomorrow.’ |