Lyrics:
It being the springtime of the yearThe flowers were freshly bloomingA young man from my home countryFell in love with Barbara AllenThis young man took sick and went to bedAnd he called out for Barbara AllenShe came to him and softly said:Young man I think you are dyingI am not dying! the young man saidOne kiss from you would cure meOne kiss from me you'll never seeThough I thought that you're heart was breakingOr do you not remember last Sunday nightOut in the ballroom dancingYou danced all night with the village whoreAnd you slighted Barbara AllenSo she went back to her father's houseAnd she heard the church bell tollingAnd each toll that the bell did ringCalled out for Barbara AllenNow she'd not gone back so very farWhen she saw the funeral comingLay down, lay down the corpse she criedSo that I may gaze upon himOh father, father, dig my graveAnd dig it deep and narrowA young man died for me todayI shall die for him tomorrowSo they both were buried in the old churchyardBut she was buried higherAnd from her grave a red rose grewAnd from his grave a brier