That ye made the healths gae round and round,
And slighted Barbara Allan.
He turn'd 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 na stay,
Since death of life had reft him.
She had not gane a mile but twa,
When she heard the dead bell ringing
And ev'ry jow that the dead-bell gied,
It cry'd, Woe to Barbara Allan.
O mother, mother, mak my bed,
O mak it saft and narrow,
Since my love dies for me to-day,
I'll die for him to morrow.