In Scarlet towne, where I was borne,
There was a faire maid dwellin,
Made every youth crye, wel-awaye!
Her name was Barbara Allen.
All in the merrye month of May,
When greene buds they were swellin,
Yong Jemmye Grove on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his man unto her then,
To the town, where shee was dwellin;
You must come to my master deare,
Gin ye be Barbara Allen.
For death is printed on his face,
And ore his hart is stealin:
Then haste away to comfort him,
O lovelye Barbara Allen.
Though death be printed on his face,
And ore his harte is stealin,
Yet little better shall he bee,
For bonny Barbara Allen.
So slowly, slowly, she came up,
And slowly she came nye him;
And all she sayd, when there she came,
Yong man, I think y'are dying.
He turnd his face unto her strait,
With deadlye sorrow sighing;
O lovely maid, come pity mee,
Ime on my death-bed lying.
If on your death-bed you doe lye,
What needs the tale you are tellin:
I cannot keep you from your death;
Farewell, sayd Barbara Allen.
He turnd his face unto the wall,
As deadlye pangs he fell in:
Adieu! adieu! my dear friends all,
And be kind to Barbara Allen.
As she was walkin o'er the fields
She heard the dead-bell knellin',
And every jow that the dead-bell geid,
Cried, "Woe to Barbara Allen!"
She turnd her bodye round about,
And spied the corps a coming:
Laye downe, laye downe the corps, she sayd,
That I may look upon him.
With scornful eye she looked downe,
Her cheeke with laughter swellin;
That all her friends cryd out amaine,
Unworthye Barbara Allen.
"O mother, mother, make my bed!
O make it saft and narrow:
My love has died for me today,
I'll die for him to-morrow."
Hard harted creature him to slight,
Who loved me so dearlye:
O that I had beene more kind to him,
When he was live and neare me!
She, on her death-bed as she laye,
Beg'd to be buried by him;
And sore repented of the daye,
That she did ere denye him.
Farewell, she sayd, ye virgins all,
And shun the fault I fell in:
Henceforth take warning by the fall
Of cruel Barbara Allen.
Notes
NOTES
Form:
abcb
1.
In 1765, Thomas Percy, later Bishop of Dromore, published in three
volumes his collection of "old heroic ballads, songs and other pieces
of our earlier poets together with some few of later date," under the
title Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, The edition contained,
in addition to a dedication to the Countess of Northumberland and a
preface, an "Essay on the Ancient English Minstrels" which was, in
part, responsible for the increasing interest in the ballad and minstrel
literature of the past. It encouraged one poet at least, James Beattie
(1735-1803), to write one of the century's best poems in the Spenserian
stanza, The Minstrel (1771-74). Percy collected his materials
from old manuscripts, from English and Scottish correspondents, from
earlier printings of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century ballads, from
the archives of various antiquarian societies, and from earlier collections
of ballads, especially the Pepys collection, "near 2000 in number, which
he has left pasted in five volumes in folio," in the Library of Magdalen
College, Cambridge. "Given, with some corrections, from an old black letter
copy, entitled Barbara Allen's Cruelty, or the young man's tragedy (Percy's
note). In an essay Goldsmith writes: "The music of the finest singer is
dissonance to what I felt when our diary maid sung me into tears with
Johnny Armstrong's Last Good Night, or the Cruelty of Barbara
Allen."
Scarlet towne. "Carlisle town" has been suggested as the correct
reading, but in some printed copies "Reading town" appears. It may be
supposed that a pun was intended.
3.
wel-awaye: a traditional plaint uttered by a mediaeval lover.
12.
Giff: if.
14.
ore: o'er.
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Comments
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listen the Melody
you can have the melodious ballad on the following site...
http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/10198
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Melody of Words.
A classic folk ballad - life and love, drama and death, with a strong dash
of moral judgement thrown in. One of the most melodious rhymes of all times. -
i guess they were really in love.
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