A rose

Message 2009 of 8384

They buried him 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 in the old churchyard,
Till they couldn't grow no higher,
They lapped and tied in a true love's knot.
The rose ran around the briar.

posted by slopok

Replies 1 - 10 of 11

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Beautiful.....you know the author?

posted by rapa
over 2 years ago

It's a song! view link

posted by rapa
over 2 years ago

wow, that was different, slopok, but very nice though. I went to the link, rapa, and listened to the video sung by a man. That's got to be an old poem.

posted by jimsgarbo
over 2 years ago

Actually it's a poem"Babara Allan" author unknown, as far as I can tell. I first heard it sung by Joan Baez back in the day.

posted by slopok
over 2 years ago

slopok is right, I used to know that poem well, for some reason. Maybe it's the name?

posted by barbincolorado
over 2 years ago

It wasn't Joan Baez it was Judy Collins and I have the CD..Here is a link to hear her sing the song and maybe even listen to "Send In the Clowns", another favorite.
view link

posted by slopok
over 2 years ago

Barb,I'll bet you are thinking of Anabelle Lee by Poe.

posted by slopok
over 2 years ago

Anabelle Lee I think was sung by someone also . That poem is one I have loved since I was young and romantic.

posted by mongomjal
over 2 years ago

Gosh, this is getting interesting. No, slopok, I'm not thinking about Anabelle Lee, although I did briefly think about The Highwayman's Daughter. But, here are the lyrics of Barbara Allen. And here's a link that explains the poem, if anybody cares, LOL. Who knew this was such a studied piece? view link But slopok, the lyrics you posted don't show up in this poem.... so I kept digging, and apparently there is more than one version????? Check out the second set of lyrics below...

IN Scarlet town, where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwellin',
Made every youth cry Well-a-way!
Her name was Barbara 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 Barbara Allen.

He sent his man in to her then,
To the town where she was dwellin',
'O haste and come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen.'

So slowly, slowly rase she up,
And slowly she came nigh him,
And when she drew the curtain by--
'Young man, I think you're dyin'.'

'O it 's I am sick and very very sick,
And it 's all for Barbara Allen.'
'O the better for me ye'se never be,
Tho' your heart's blood were a-spillin'!

'O dinna ye mind, young man,' says she,
'When the red wine ye were fillin',
That ye made the healths go round and round,
And slighted Barbara Allen?'

He turn'd his face unto the wall,
And death was with him dealin':
'Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
And be kind to Barbara Allen!'

As she was walking o'er the fields,
She heard the dead-bell knellin';
And every jow the dead-bell gave
Cried 'Woe to Barbara Allen.'

'O mother, mother, make my bed,
O make it saft and narrow:
My love has died for me to-day,
I'll die for him to-morrow.

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

***********************

One version

In Scarlet Town, where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwellin'
Made every youth cry well-a-day!
Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merry month of May
When green buds they were swellin',
Young Jeremy Grove on his deathbed lay
For love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his man unto her then,
To the town where she was dwellin'.
"You must come to my master dear,
If your name be Barbara Allen,

For death is printed on his face
And o'er his heart is stealin'.
Then haste away to comfort him,
O lovely Barbara Allen."

Though death be printed on his face
And o'er his heart be stealin',
Yet little better shall he be
For bonny Barbara Allen.

So 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 dyin'."

He turned his face unto her straight
With deadly sorrow sighin'.
"O lovely maid, come pity me;
I'm on my deathbed lyin'."

"If on your deathbed you do lie
What needs the tale you're tellin'?
I cannot keep you from your death.
Farewell," said Barbara Allen.

He turned his face unto the wall
As deadly pangs he fell in.
"Adieu! Adieu! Adieu to you all!
Adieu to Barbara Allen!"

As she was walking o'er the fields
She heard the bell a-knellin'
And every stroke did seem to say,
"Unworthy Barbara Allen."

She turned her body 'round about
And spied the corpse a-comin'.
"Lay down, lay down the corpse," she said,
"That I may look upon him."

With scornful eye she looked down,
Her cheek with laughter swellin',
That all her friends cried out amaine,
"Unworthy Barbara 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.

Hard-hearted creature, him to slight
Who loved me so dearly,
O that I had been more kind to him,
When he was live and near me!"

She on her deathbed, as she lay,
Begged to be buried by him
And sore repented of the day
That she did e'er deny him.

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

posted by barbincolorado
over 2 years ago

Very interesting. Now, to get back to the original song, I have a CD with a rendition by Nanci Griffith. I think her unique voice lends itself to this type of song.