Barbara Allen- (TN-VA) c.1934 Cambiaire
[No date, informant or specific place named. From; Eastern Tennessee and Western Virginia Mountain Ballads- Cambiaire, 1934. His note is amusing:
"* This ballad must have a very old origin. and its story was known perhaps in prehistoric times."
"Prehistoric times" makes me think of a cave man swinging his spear and singing, "All in the merry month of May. . ."
R. Matteson 2015]
35. BARBARA ALLEN
IN the Scarlet Town here I was born,
There was a fair maid dwelling,
And every youth cried, "Well a-day!"
Her name was Barbara Allen.
All in the merry month of May,
When the green buds were a-swelling,
Poor William on his deathbed lay,
For the love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his man unto her then,
To the town that she did dwell in,
Says: "You must come to my master,
If your name be Barbara Allen.
For death is painted on his face,
And o'er his heart is stealing,
Then haste away to comfort him,
Oh, lovely Barbara Allen."
"Though death he painted on his face,
And o'er his heart is stealing,
Yet, little the better will he be
If I am Barbara Allen."
But slowly, slowly she came up,
And slowly she came nigh him,
And all she said when thus she came,
''Young man, I think you're dying."
He turned his face unto her straight,
With deathly sorrow, sighing,
"Oh, pretty maid, come pity me,
I'm on my deathbed lying."
He turned his face unto the wall,
And death was with him dealing,
"Adieu, adieu, my clear friends all,
Adieu to Barbara Allen."
As she was walking o'er the fields,
She heard the death bell knelling,
And every stroke it seemed to say,
" Unworthy Barbara Allen."
She turned her body round about,
And spied the corpse a-coming,
"Lay down, lay down the corpse," she cried,
"That I may look upon it."
With scornful eyes she looked down,
Her cheeks with laughter swelling,
And all her friends cried, "Out away,
Unworthy Barbara Allen."
As on her deathbed she did lay,
Her heart was stricken with sorrow,
" Oh, mother, mother, make my bed,
For I shall die to-morrow."
"Hard-hearted creature, him to slight,
Who loved me so dearly,
Oh, that I'd been more kind to him,
When he was alive and near me."
She, on her deathbed as she lay,
Begged to be buried by him,
And so repented of the day,
That she e'er did deny him.
"Farewell," she said, "ye virgins all,
And shun the fault I fell in,
Henceforth take warning by the fall,
Of cruel Barbara Allen."
They buried poor William in the church-yard,
And Barbara Allen by him,
Out of his grave sprang a red rose,
And out of hers a brier.
They grew till they grew to the church-house top,
And they could not grow any higher,
They locked and they tied in a true lover's knot.
And a rose hung on the brier.* [see note above]