Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/481

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SURVIVALS OF OLD BRITISH BALLADS
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He sent his servant down in town; He went into her dwelling:

"My master s sick, and sent for you, If your name be Barbara Allen." And slowly, slowly did she rise, And slowly she went to him, And all she said when she got there,

"Young man, I think you are dying."

"Oh, yes, I m sick, I m very sick, And death is with me, darling, I'll die, I'll die, I'll surely die, If I don't get Barbara Allen."

"Oh, yes, you are sick, and very sick, And death is in your dwelling; You'll die, you'll die, you'll surely die, For you will never get Barbara Allen.

"Remember on last Wednesday night When we were at a wedding, You passed your wine to the girls all around And slighted Barbara Allen." He turned his pale face to the wall, He turned his back upon her:

"Adieu, adieu to the friends all around, And adieu to Barbara Allen." She had not got ten miles from town, When she heard a swamp bird singing; And every time the swamp bird sung Was woe to Barbara Allen.