Was in the merry month of May   When all gay flowers were a bloomin',   Sweet William on his death-bed lay   For the love of Barbara Allen.      He sent his servant to the town   To the place where she was dwelling   Said, "You must come to my master's house,   If your name be Barbara Allen."      So slowly, slowly she gets up,   And to his bedside going   She drew the curtains to one side   And says, "Young man, you're dying."      "I know, I'm sick and very low,   And sorrow dwells within me   No better, no better I never will be.   Til I have Barbara Allen."      "Don't you remember last Saturday night   When I was at the tavern,   You gave your drinks to the ladies there   But you slighted Barbara Allen?"      He reached up his pale white hands   Intending for to touch her   She turned away from his bedside   And says, "Young man I won't have you."      He turned his cheek into the wall   And bursted out a crying   "What I do to thee I do to all   And I do to Barbara Allen."      She had not walked and reached the town   She heard the death bells ringing   And as they rolled they seemed to say,   "Hard-hearted Barbara Allen."      "Oh Mother, oh mother go make my bed   Make it both long and narrow   Sweet William died for me today   I'll die for him tomorrow."      Sweet William was buried in the old church yard   And Barbara there anigh him,   And out of his grave grew a red, red rose,   And out of hers, a briar.      They grew and grew to the old churchyard,   Where they couldn't grow no higher,   And there they tied in a true love's knot.   The rose wrapped around the briar.