Bonny Barbara Allan (1815-1825)/Bonny Barbara Allan

BONNY BARBARA ALLAN.

It was in and about the Martinmas time,
⁠When the green leaves were a-falling,
That Sir John Graeme in the west country
⁠Fell in love with Barbara Allan.

He sent his man down thro' the town,
⁠To the place where she was dwelling,
O haste and come to my master dear,
⁠Gin ye be Barbara Allan.

O hooly hooly rose she up,
⁠To the place where he was lying,
And when she drew the curtain by,
⁠Young man, I think ye're dying.

O its I'm sick, and very very sick,
⁠And 'tis a' for Barbara Allan,
O the better for me ye'se never be,
⁠Tho' your heart's blood were a-spilling.

O dinna ye mind, young man, said she,
⁠When ye was in the tavern a drinking
That ye made the healths gae round and round,
⁠And slighted Barbara Allan.

He turn'd his face unto the wall,
⁠And death was with him dealing,
Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
⁠And be kind to Barbara Allan.

And slowly slowly raise she up,
⁠And slowly slowly left him;
And sighing, said, she could na stay,
⁠Since death of life had reft him.

She had not gane a mile but twa,
⁠When she heard the dead bell ringing
And ev'ry jow that the dead-bell gied,
⁠It cry'd, Woe to Barbara Allan.

O mother, mother, mak my bed,
⁠O mak it saft and narrow,
Since my love dies for me to-day,
⁠I'll die for him to morrow.

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