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It was round and about last Martinmas tide |
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When the green leaves were swellin' |
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That young Jimmy Grove of the West Country |
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Fell in love with Barb'ry Allen |
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He sent his men into the town |
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To the place where she was dwellin' |
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"Oh will you come to my master, dear, |
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If your name be Barb'ry Allen?" |
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And slowly, slowly got she up |
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And slowly came she nigh him |
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And all she said when there she came |
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"Young man, I think you're dyin'" |
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"Oh, yes, I'm sick, I'm very sick |
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Indeed I think I'm dyin' |
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But a word from you would revive me again |
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Oh lovely Barb'ry Allen" |
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"Do you recall, young man," she said, |
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"When the red wine you were spillin', |
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How you made the ladies' health go round |
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And you slighted Barb'ry Allen?" |
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And death is printed on his face |
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And all his heart is stealin' |
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And again he cried as she left his side |
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"Hard-hearted Barb'ry Allen!" |
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As she was goin' over the field |
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She heard the death bells tollin' |
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And every sound that death bell gave: |
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"Hard-hearted Barb'ry Allen!" |
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"Oh mother, mother make me a bed |
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Oh make it soft and narrow |
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Since Jimmy died for me today |
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I'll die for him tomorrow" |