Barbriallen
It was in the merry month of May,When green buds were a-swelling,Sweet William on his death bed layFor the love of Barbriallen.
He sent his servant to the town,The place where she'd been dwelling,Saying master dear has sent me hereIf your name be Barbriallen.
And slowly, slowly she got up,And slowly she went to him,And all she said when she got there:"Young man, I think you are dying."
Oh, don't you remember the other dayWhen we where in a tavern,You drank, your health to the ladies thereAnd you slighted Barbriallen?
He turned his face unto the wall,He turned his back upon her:Adieu, adieu to all my friendsBe kind to Barbriallen.
She looked to the east, she looked to the west,She saw his corpse a-coming."Oh, put him down for me," she cried,"That I may gaze upon him."
The more she looked the more she grieved,She busted out in crying:"Oh, pick me up and carry me homeFor I feel like I am dying."
They buried sweet Willy in the old church yardAnd Barbara in the new one.From Willy's grave there grew a rose,From Barbara's a green briar.
They grew and they grew on the old church wallAnd could not grow no higher,And there they tied in a true love's knotThe rose bush and the briar.