A Bundle of Ballads

BARBARA ALLEN'S CRUELTY.

     In Scarlet town, where I was born,
       There was a fair maid dwellin',
     Made every youth cry, Well away!
       Her name was Barbara Allen.

     All in the merry month of May,
       When green buds they were swellin',
     Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay
       For love of Barbara Allen.

     He sent his man unto her then,
       To the town where she was dwellin';
     "You must come to my master dear,
       Gif your name be 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."

     Though death be printed on his face
       And o'er his heart is stealin',
     Yet little better shall he be
       For bonny 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 y'are dying."

     He turned his face unto her straight,
       With deadly sorrow sighing;
     "O lovely maid, come pity me,
       I'm on my deathbed lying."—

     "If on your deathbed you do lie,
       What needs the tale you are tellin';
     I cannot keep you from your death:
       Farewell," said Barbara Allen.

     He turned his face unto the wall,
       As deadly pangs he fell in:
     "Adieu! adieu! adieu to you all!
       Adieu to Barbara Allen!"

     As she was walking o'er the fields,
       She heard the bell a knellin';
     And every stroke did seem to say,—
       UNWORTHY BARBARA ALLEN.

     She turned her body round about,
       And spied the corpse a coming:
     "Lay down, lay down the corpse," she said,
       "That I may look upon him."

     With scornful eye she look-ed down,
       Her cheek with laughter swellin';
     Whilst all her friends cried out amain,
       UNWORTHY BARBARA ALLEN.

     When he was dead, and laid in grave,
       Her heart was struck with sorrow,
     "O mother, mother, make my bed,
       For I shall die to-morrow!

     "Hard-hearted creature him to slight,
       Who lov-ed me so dearly:
     O that I had 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 sore repented of the day,
       That she did e'er deny him.

     "Farewell," she said, "ye maidens all,
       And shun the fault I fell in:
     Henceforth take warning by the fall
       Of cruel Barbara Allen."