In scarlet Town where I was born
There was a fair maid dwelling
Made ev'ry youth cry well a day
Her name was Barbara Allen.
It was in the merry month of May
When green buds they were swelling
Young Jemmy Grove on his death bed lay
For love of Barbara Allen.
For death is printed on his face,
And o'er his heart is stealin';
Then haste away to comfort him,
O lovely Barbara Allen.
So slowly, slowly, she came up,
And slowly she came nigh him,
And all she said, when there she came,
Young man I think you're dying.
When he was dead and laid in grave,
Her heart was struck with sorrow,
O mother, mother, make my bed,
For I shall die tomorrow.
Farewell, she said, ye maidens all,
And shun the fault I fell in;
Henceforth take warning by the fall
Of cruel Barbara Allen.
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