She turnd her bodye round about,
And spied the corps a coming :

Laye down, laye down the corps, she sayd,
That I may look upon him.

With fcornful eye fhe looked downe,
Her cheeke with laughter fwellin;
That all her friends cryd out amaine,
Unworthye Barbara Allen.

When he was dead, and laid in grave,
Her harte was ftruck with forrowe,

O mother, mother, make my bed,
For I fhall dye to morrowe.

35

45

50

Hard harted creature him to flight,

Who loved me so dearlye:

O that I had beene more kind to him,

55

She, on her death-bed as she laye,

Beg'd to be buried by him :
And fore repented of the daye,
That she did ere denye him.

Farewell, fhe fayd, ye virgins all,
And fhun the fault I fell in :
Henceforth take warning by the fall
Of cruel Barbara Allen.

66

VI.

SWEET WILLIAM's GHOST.

A SCOTTISH BALLAD.

From Allan Ramfay'sTea Table mifcellany. The concluding ftanza of this piece feems modern.

T

HERE came a ghost to Margaret's door,
With many a grievous grone,

Tis not thy father Philip;

Nor yet thy brother John:

But tis thy true love Willie

From Scotland new come home.

O fweet Margret! O dear Margret!
I pray thee fpeak to mee:

Give me my faith and troth, Margret,

Thy faith and troth thou'fe nevir get,
Of me fhalt nevir win,'

Till that thou come within my

And kifs my cheek and chin.

10

15

bower,

20

Give me my faith and troth, Margret,

As I gave it to thee.

Thy faith and troth thou'fe nevir get,

. Of me fhalt nevir win,'

Till thou take me to yon kirk

And wed me with a ring.

VOL. I.

25

30

yard,

t

My bones are buried in a kirk yard

Afar beyond the sea,

And it is but my fprite, Margret,

That's speaking now to thee.

She stretched out her lilly-white hand,

As for to do her beft:

Hae there your faith and troth, Willie,

35

Is there any room at your head, Willie ?

45

Or any room at your feet?

Or any room at your fide, Willie,

Wherein that I may creep?

There's nae room at my head, Margret,

There's nae room at my feet,

There's no room at my fide, Margret,

My coffin is made so meet.

Then

And up then crew the gray :

50

up and crew the red red cock,

Tis time, tis time, my dear Margret,

55

That you were gane away.

No

No more the ghoft to Margret faid,
But, with a grievous grone,
Evanish'd in a cloud of mist,
And left her all alone.

O ftay, my only true love, stay,
The conftant Margret cried :

Wan grew her cheeks, fhe clos'd her een,
Stretch'd her faft limbs, and died.

бо

`VII.

SIR JOHN GREHME AND BARBARA ALLAN.

A SCOTTISH BALLAD.

Printed, with a few conjectural emendations, from a written сору.

T was in and about the Martinmas time,

IT

When the greene leaves wer a fallan;
That Sir John Grehme o' the west countrye,
Fell in luve wi' Barbara Allan.

He fent his man down throw the towne,
To the plaice wher she was dwellan :
O hafte and cum to my maifter deare,
Gin ye bin Barbara Allan.

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