Barbara Allen's Cruelty: OR, THE Youngman's Tragedy.  
With Barbara Allen's Lamentation for her Unkindness to her Lover, and herself.  
To the Tune of Barbara Allen.  
Licenced according to Order.  
 

IN Scarlet Town where I was bound,  
there was a fair Maid dwelling,  
Whom I had chosen to be my own  
and her name it was Barbara Allen.   

All in the merry Month of May,  
when green leaves they was springing,  
This young man on his Deathbed lay,  
for the love of Barbara Allen.   

He sent his man 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 in his face,  
and sorrow's in him dwelling,  
And you must come to my Master dear,  
if your name be Barbara Allen.   

If Death be printed in his face,  
and sorrows in him dwelling,  
Then little better shall he be,  
for bonny Barbara Allen.   

So slowly, slowly she got up,  
and so slowly she came to him,  
And all she said when she came there,  
Young man I think you are a dying.   

He turned his face unto her then,  
if you be Barbara Allen.  
My dear said he, come pity me,  
as on my Deathbed I am lying.   

If on your Death Bed you be lying,  
what is that to Barbara Allen.  
I cannot keep you from Death,  
so farewell, said Barbara Allen?   

He turned his face unto the Wall,  
and Death came creeping to him;  
Then adieu, adieu and adieu to all,  
and adieu to Barbara Allen.   

And as she was walking on a day,  
she heard the Bell a Ringing,  
And it did seem to Ring to her,  
Unworthy Barbara Allen.   

She turned herself round about,  
and she spied the Corpse a coming;  
Lay down lay down the Corpse of Clay▪  
that I may look upon him.   

And all the while she looked on,  
so loudly she lay laughing;  
While all her Friends cried amain,  
Unworthy Barbara Allen.   

When he was dead and laid in Grave,  
than Death came creeping to she  
O Mother! Mother! make my Bed  
for his death hath quite undone we.   

A hardhearted Creature that I was,  
to slight one that loved me so dearly,  
I wish I had been more kinder to him,  
the time of his Life, when he was near me.   

So this Maid she then did die,  
and desired to be buried by him,  
And repented herself before she died,  
that ever she did deny him.   
FINIS.   

Printed for, P. Brooksby J. Deacon, J. Blare J. Back.