Barbara Allen - a version of a song mentioning Totnes

A Church in Totnes - note the flowers in the wall - not roses, but one can imagine... - By User:Wigulf (Own work) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html), CC-BY-SA-3.0 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/) or CC-BY-2.5 (www.creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons

"IN Totnes town where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwelling,
Made every youth cry "Well-a-way,"
Her name was Barbara Allen.

All in the merry month of May,

When green buds they were swelling,
Young Johnny Gale on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his groom unto her then,

To the town where she was dwelling,
" 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 stealing :
Then haste away to comfort him,
Oh ! lovely Barbara Allen !"

Though death be printed on his face,

And o'er his heart is stealing,
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 up she came,
"Young man, I think you're dying."

He turned his face unto her straight,

With deadly sorrow sighing,
" Oh ! lovely maid, come pity me,
I'm on my death-bed lying."

" If on your death-bed you do lie,
What needs the fate you're telling :
I cannot keep you from your death.
Farewell !" said Barbara Allen.

He turned his face unto the wall,

And deadly pangs he fell in,
"Adieu, adieu, adieu to all !
Adieu to Barbara Allen !"

As she was walking o'er the fields,

She heard the bell a-knelling,
And every stroke did seem to say,
" Unworthy Barbara Allen."

She turned her body round about,

And 'spied the corpse a-coming,
" Lay down, lay down, the corpse," she said,
" That I may look upon him."

With scornful eye, she looked down,

Her cheeks with laughter swelling,
Whilst all his friends cried out " For shame, 

Unworthy Barbara Allen !"

When he was dead and in his grave,

Her heart was struck with sorrow,
" Oh, mother ! mother ! make my bed,
For I shall die to-morrow.

" Hard-hearted creature him to slight,

Who loved me so dearly ;
Oh ! that I'd been more kind to him,
When he was alive and near me."

She, on her death-bed 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."

Sung by John Snow, of Tiverton, at a supper party, A.D. 1869.

Hewett 1900

Map - Totnes
Map - Tiverton

[This song contains the line " Oh, mother ! mother ! make my bed, / For I shall die to-morrow." which is very similar to a version of a song about Yarrow I know ("Oh mother dear make me my bed/ make it both long and narrow/ for he who died for me today/ I shall die for him tomorrow") - folk songs are not bothered by copyright, simply by what is best! This song is well known - type it into the EFDSS catalog and you will get 34 results, though of course the town varies massively! A good version is found here.]

Uncle Anthony James

'A gentleman to whom I am under many obligations writes:-- "The only wandering droll-teller whom I well remember was an old blind man, from the parish of Cury,--I think, as he used to tell many stories about the clever doings of the conjurer Luty of that place, and by that means procure the conjurer much practice from the people of the west. The old man had been a soldier in his youth, and had a small pension at the time he went over the country, accompanied by a boy and dog. He neither begged nor offered anything for sale, but was sure of a welcome to bed and board in every house he called at. He would seldom stop in the same house more than one night, not because he had exhausted his stories, or 'eaten his welcome,' but because it required all his time to visit his acquaintances once in the year. The old man was called Uncle Anthony James. (Uncle is a term of respect, which was very commonly applied to aged men by their juniors in Cornwall. Aunt (A'nt or Ann), as A'nt Sally or Ann' Jenney, was used in the same manner when addressing aged women.

"Uncle Anthony James used to arrive every year in St Leven parish about the end of August. Soon after he reached my father's house, he would stretch himself on the 'chimney-stool,' and sleep until supper-time. When the old man had finished his frugal meal of bread and milk, he would tune his fiddle and ask il 'missus' would like to hear him sing her favourite ballad. As soon as my dear mother told him how pleased she would be, Uncle Anthony would go through the 'woeful hunting'; (' Chevy Chase '), from beginning to end, accompanied by the boy and the fiddle. I expect the air was his own composition, as every verse was a different tune. The young were then gratified by hearing the 'streams' (strains) of 'Lovely Nancy,' divided in three parts. [j] I never saw this ballad published, yet it is a very romantic old thing, almost as long as 'Chevy Chase.' Another favourite was --

'Cold blows the wind to-day, sweetheart;
Cold are the drops of rain;
The first truelove that ever I had
In the green wood he was slain.

"Twas down in the garden-green, sweetheart,
Where you and I did walk;
The fairest flower that in the garden grew
Is withered to a stalk.

'The stalk will bear no leaves, sweetheart;
'l'he flowers will ne'er return;
And since my truelove is dead and gone,
What can I do but mourn?

'A twelvemonth and a day being gone,
The spirit rose and spoke--
"My body is clay cold, sweetheart;
My breath smells heavy arid strong;
And if you kiss my lily-white lips,
Your time will not be long."

"Then follows a stormy kind of duet between the maiden and her lover's ghost, who tries to persuade the maid to accompany him to the world of shadows. Uncle Anthony had also a knack of turning Scotch and Irish songs into Cornish ditties. 'Barbara Allan' he managed in the following way, and few knew but that he had composed the song:--

'In Cornwall I was born and bred,
In Cornwall was my dwelling;
And there I courted a pretty maid,
Her name was Ann Tremellan.

"The old man had the 'Babes in the Wood' for religious folks; but he avoided the ' Conorums,' as he called the Methodists. Yet the grand resource was the stories in which the supernatural bore great part. The story I told you about the ancestors of the conjurer Luty finding the mermaid, who gave them the power to break the spell of witchcraft, was one of this old man's tales, which he seemed to believe; and he regarded the conjurer with as much respect as the bard might the priest in olden time. I have a dim recollection of another old droll-teller, called Billy Frost, in St Just, who used to go round to the feasts in the neighbouring parishes, and be well entertained at the public-houses for the sake of his drolls."

[j] Carew, in his "Survey of Cornwall," makes especial mention of "three men's songs,' as being peculiar to this county.'

Hunt 1903