Barb’ry Allen
Traditional Folk Song

Twas in the merry month of May
When all the flowers were blooming,
Sweet William on his deathbed lay
For love of Barb’ry Allen,
Sweet William on his deathbed lay
For love of Barb’ry Allen.

As she was walking through the field
She heard the death bells knelling,
And with every toll, they seemed to say,
“Hard-hearted Barb’ry Allen!”

“Oh mother, mother, make my bed,
And make it long and narrow.
Sweet William died for me today,
I die for him tomorrow.”

They buried William in the old churchyard,
And Barbara there a-nigh him,
And out of his grave, grew red, red rose,
And, out of hers, a briar.
They leapt and tied in a true love’s knot:
the rose ran ’round the briar.