Barbara Allen - Bobby Long

It fell about a Martinmas time,
When the green leaves were a-fallin,
That Sir John Graeme from the West country
Fell in love wi Bawbie Allen.

He sent his men down through the town
To the place where she was dwallin,
"O haste an' come to my master dear,
Gin ye be Bawbie Allan."

O hooly, hooly rase she up
Till she cam where he was lyin,
An' when she drew the curtains roun
Said, "Young man, I think ye’re dyin."

"I am sick an' very very sick,
An it’s a’ for Bawbie Allan."
"But the better for me ye never shall be
Though your heart's blood were a-spillin.

"O don't you mind, young man", she said,
"When in the tavern callin,
Ye made the toasts gang roun an' roun,
But ye slighted Bawbie Allan."

"A kiss o you would do me good,
My bonnie Bawbie Allan."
"But o kiss o me ye sanna get,
Though your heart's blood were a-spillin".

He's turned his face untae the wa’,
For death was wi him dealin,
Said, "Fare ye weel, my kind friends a',
But be kind to Bawbie Allan.

"Put in your han' at my bedside,
An' there ye’ll find a warran',
A napkin full o my heart's blood,
Gie that to Bawbie Allan."

Slowly, slowly, rase she up
An slowly, slowly, left him,
An' sighin said she could not stay
Since death o life had reft him.

She hadna gane a mile but ane,
When she heard the dead bell knellin,
An' ilka toll that the dead bell gae
Said, Woe to Bawbie Allan.

In them cam her father dear,
Said, "Bonie Bawbie, tak him."
"It's time to bid me tak him noo
When ye know his coffin's makin.

" In then cam her brother dear,
Said, "Bonie Bawbie, tak him."
"It's time to bid tak him noo,
When his grave-claes is a-makin."

Then in cam her sisters dear,
Said, "Bonie Bawbie, tak him."
"It's time to bid me tak him noo,
Whan my heart it is a-brakin."

"O mother dear, o mak my bed,
An' mak it saft an'’ narrow;
My love has died for me to-day,
I’ll die for him to-morrow.

O father deir, o mak my bed,
An' mak it saft an narrow;
My luve has dyed for me to-day,
An I will dye o' sorrow."

Barb’ry Allen was buried in the old church-yard,
Sweet William was buried beside her,
Out of Sweet William’s heart there grew a rose,
Out of Barb’ry Allen's, a briar.

They grew an grew in the old church-yard,
Till they could grew no higher;
At the end they form’d a true-lover’s knot
And the rose grew ’round the briar.