Barbara Allen

Barbara Allen - Judy Collins

Written by：Traditional/arr. Judy Collins

'Twas in the merry month of May

When the green buds were swelling

A young man on his death bed lay

For the love of Barbara Allen

He sent his servant to the town

Sent him to her dwelling

My master is sick and he sends for you

If you are Barbara Allen

Oh slowly slowly she got up

Slowly she would nigh him

And all she said when she got there

Was my true love you're dying

He turned his face unto the wall

Death was in him dwelling

Adieu adieu to my sweet friends all

Be kind to Barbara Allen

As she walked down the road to home

She saw his hearse are comin'

Oh lay him down on the cold cold ground

That I may gaze up on him

Oh mother mother make my bed

Make it soft and narrow

For my true love has died today

I'll die for him tomorrow

They buried her by the old church tower

In there lay beside her

And from her grave grew red red rose

And from his grave grew brier

They grew to the top of the old church tower

'Till they could grow no higher

And there they tied in a true love's knot

The red red rose and the brier