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.