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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 through 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 you're dying."

"O it's I'm sick, and very, very sick,

And 'tis a' for Barabara Allan";

"O the better for me ye's never be,

Tho your heart's blood were a-spilling.

"Do you remember the other day,

When we were at the tavern drinking,

You drank a health to the ladies all,

And you slighted Barbara Allan?"

"Yes, I remember the other day,

When we were at the tavern drinking,

I drank a health to the ladies all,

And three to Barbara Allan."

"Do you remember the other night,

When we were at the ballroom dancing,

You gave your hand to the ladies all,

And slighted Barbara Allan?"

"Yes, I remember the other night,

When we were at the ballroom dancing,

I gave my hand to the ladies all,

And my heart to Barbara Allan."

He turned 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 not stay,

Since death of life had reft him.

She had not gane a mile but twa,

When she heard the dead-bell ringing,

And every jow that the dead-bell geid,

It cry'd, "Woe to Barbara Allan."

"O mother, mother, make my bed!

O make it saft and narrow!

Since my love died for me today,

I'll die for him tomorrow."