In Scarlet Town, where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwellin',
Made ev'ry youth cry "Well-a-day!"
Her name was Barb'ra Allen.

All in the merry month of May
When green buds they were swellin',
Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay
For love of Barb'ra Allen.

Then slowly, slowly she came up,
And slowly she came nigh him,
And all she said when there she came
"Young man, I think you're dying".

As she was walking o'er the fields
She heard the dead-bell knellin',
And ev'ry stroke the dead-bell gave
Cried "Woe to Barb'ra Allen!"

When he was dead and laid in grave
Her heart was struck with sorrow.
"O mother, mother, make my bed,
For I shall die tomorrow."

"Farewell," she said, "ye virgins all,
And shun the fault I fell in;
Henceforth take warning by the fall
Of cruel Barb'ra Allen."