darachweb Song Lyrics

 

  • Celtic Music
  • Flags, Flag Gifts
  • British Food
  • Armoury
  • Notecards
  • DVDs, Books

  •  
     

    Clans, Organizations and Businesses: Contact us about quantity discounts!


    WebLog

    Links to other Sites we like!

    Song Lyrics Index View Cart

     

    Barbara Allen
    Album: Auld Scotch Sangs
    Album: Drifting with Michener

     
    Traditional, Child Ballad #84 (1740)
    The singing of this ballad is mentioned as early as 1666, by Pepys. There are many versions of the song, including American folk versions. The version presented here is a melding of the Scottish and American versions.  
     

     
    In yonder town, where I was born
    There was a fair maid dwellin'
    Made all the youth cry "Well-a-day"
    Her name was Barbara Allen.

    It was in and about Martinmas time
    When all the leaves were falling
    That Sir John Graeme, from the West Country
    Fell in love with Barbara Allen.

    He sent his man down through the town
    To the place where she was dwellin'
    'O haste ye come to my master dear,
    Gin ye be Barbara Allen.'

    O hooly, hooly rose she up
    To the place where he was lying
    And when she drew the curtain by,
    'Young man I think you're dying.'

    'O, I am sick, and very very sick,
    And tis a' for Barbara Allen'
    'O the better for me ye's never be,
    Tho your heart's blood were a-spilling.'

    'O dinna ye mind, young man,' said she
    'When in the tavern drinking,
    That ye made the health tae the ladies round,
    And slighted Barbara Allen.'

    'O aye I mind' the young man said,
    'When in the tavern driking,
    I made the health tae the ladies round,
    But my heart tae Barabra Allen.'

    He turned his face unto the wall
    And death was with him dealin'
    'Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all
    And be kind to Barabara Allen.'

    And slowly, slowly raise she up
    And slowly, slowly left him
    And sighing said, she could not stay
    Since death of life had reft him.

    She had not gane but a mile or twa
    When she heard the dead-bell rigning
    And every jow that the dead-bell gi'ed
    Cried, woe to Barbara Allen.

    'O mother, mother, make my bed
    O make it saft and narrow!
    Since my love died for me today
    I'll die for him tomorrow.'

    They buried her in the old church yard
    They buried John beside her
    Out of his grave grew a red, red rose
    And out of hers a briar

    They grew and grew up the old church wall
    Till they could grow no higher
    And at the top in a lover's knot
    Twined the red rose and the briar.

     

    Glossary
    a': all
    dinna: did not
    gane: gone
    gin: if
    gi'ed: gave
    hooly: slowly
    jow: single peal of a bell
    Martinmas: November 11
    reft: tear, rend
    tae: to
    twa: two

     

    Back to Song Index