So slowly, slowly she got up,
and so slowly she came to him,
And all she said when she came there,
young Man, I think you are a dying.
He turn’d his face unto her then:
if you be Barbara Allen,
My dear, said he, come pitty me,
as on my Death-bed I am lying.
If on your Death-bed you be lying,
what is that to Barbara Allen?
I cannot keep you from Death,
so farewell, said Barbara Allen.
He turn’d his face unto the Wall,
and Death came creeping to him:
Then adieu, adieu, and adieu to all,
and adieu to Barbara Allen.
And as she was walking on a day,
she heard the Bell a Ringing,
And it did seem to ring to her,
unworthy Barbara Allen.
She turn’d herself round about,
and she spy’d the Corps a coming:
Lay down, Lay down the Corps of Clay,
that I may look upon him.
And all the while she looked on,
so loudly she was laughing;
While all her Friends cry’d amain,
unworthy Barbara Allen.
