{title: Barbara Allen}
{artist: 1622}
{meta: imported_credit 1622}
{meta: credit_status unverified}
{meta: source https://www.jasonpaul.net/songs/barbara-allen/}
{capo: 0}
In Scarlet [G]Town, where I was [Em]bound,
There was a [A7]fair maid [D]dwelling,
Whom [C]I had chosen to [G]be my own,
And her name it was [Am7]Barb[D7]ara [G]Allen.

All in the [G]merry month of [Em]May,
When green leaves [A7]they was [D]springing,
This [C]young man on his [G]death-bed lay,
For the love of [Am7]Barb[D7]ara [G]Allen.

He sent his [G]man unto her [Em]then,
To town where [A7]she was [D]dwelling:
'You [C]must come to my [G]master dear,
If your name be [Am7]Barb[D7]ara [G]Allen.

'For death is [G]printed in his [Em]face,
And sorrow's [A7]in him [D]dwelling,
And you [C]must come to my [G]master dear,
If your name be [Am7]Barb[D7]ara [G]Allen.'

'If death be [G]printed in his [Em]face,
And sorrow's [A7]in him [D]dwelling,
Then [C]little better shall [G]he be
For bonny [Am7]Barb[D7]ara [G]Allen.'

So slowly, [G]slowly she got [Em]up,
And so slowly [A7]she came [D]to him,
And [C]all she said when [G]she came there,
Young man, I [Am7]think [D7]you are a [G]dying.

He turnd his [G]face unto her [Em]then:
'If you be [A7]Barbara [D]Allen,
My [C]dear,' said he, 'Come [G]pitty me,
As on my [Am7]death-bed [D7]I am [G]lying.'

'If on your [G]death-bed you be [Em]lying,
Whats that to [A7]Barbara [D]Allen?
I [C]cannot keep you [G]from your death;
So farewell,' said [Am7]Barb[D7]ara [G]Allen.

He turnd his [G]face unto the [Em]wall,
And death came [A7]creeping [D]to him:
'Then a[C]dieu, adieu, and a[G]dieu to all,
And adieu to [Am7]Barb[D7]ara [G]Allen!'

as she was [G]walking on a [Em]day,
She heard the [A7]bell a [D]ringing,
And [C]it did seem to [G]ring to her
'Unworthy [Am7]Barb[D7]ara [G]Allen.'

She turnd her[G]self round a[Em]bout,
And spy'd the [A7]corps a [D]coming:
'Lay [C]down, lay down the [G]corps of clay,
That I may [Am7]look [D7]up[G]on him.'

all the [G]while she looked [Em]on,
So loudly [A7]she lay [D]laughing,
While [C]all her friends cry'd [G]out amain,
'Unworthy [Am7]Barba[D7]ra [G]Allen!'

When he was [G]dead, and laid in [Em]grave,
Then death came [A7]creeping to[D] she:
'O [C]mother, mother, [G]make my bed,
his death hath [Am7]quite [D7]un[G]done me.

'hard-hearted [G]creature that I [Em]was,
To slight the [A7]one lovd me [D]dearly;
I [C]wish I had been [G]kind to him,
The time when [Am7]he [D7]lived [G]near me.'

So this [G]maid she then did [Em]dye,
desired to [A7]be buried by[D] him,
re[C]pented her self [G]'fore she dy'd,
That ever [Am7]she [D7]de[G]nied him.