Barbara Allen - Live

'Twas in the merry month of May, when rosebuds were a-swelling

Sweet William on his deathbed lay, for the love of Barbara Allen

He sent his servant to the town, the town where she was dwelling

Said, "My master's sick and he's sent

For you, if you name be Barbara Allen"

Then slowly, slowly, she got up, and slowly she went nine

And all she said when she got there

"Young man, I think you're dying"

"Oh, yes, I'm sick

I'm very sick

I hear the death wind howling

No better, no better I never shall be if I can't have Barbara Allen

I can't forgive that jealous night down at the Lockwood Tavern

You drank and danced with the ladies

There, and you slighted Barbara Allen"

She was on her long way home

She saw the hearse a-coming

"Lay down, lay down your corpse of clay, that I may look upon it"

The more she looked, the more she mourned

Till she fell to the ground in sorrow

Sweet William died for me today

I'll die for him tomorrow

They buried her in the old churchyard

And William's grave was nigh her

On William's grave there grew red rose

On Barbara's grave a brier

They grew and grew up the old church

Wall, till they could grow no higher

They lapped and tied in a true love knot

The rose wrapped round the briar