BARBARA ALLEN.
LL in the merry Month of May,
when green leaves they was springing,
This young man on his Death-bed lay,
for the love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his man unto her then,
in the Town where she was dwelling:
You must come to my Master dear,
if your name be Barbara Allen.
For Death is printed in his face,
and Sorrow’s in him dwelling,
And you must come to my Master dear,
if your name is Barbara Allen.
If Death be printed on his face,
and Sorrow’s in him dwelling,
Then little better shall he be
for Bonny Barbara Allen.
