Folk music covers a lot of ground throughout history. Once consider the music of the peasants but yet influenced what is considered modern music and song. Music of court was usually instrumental except in operas and those lyrics were second to the music and drama on the stage. Peaseant music, or folk music were common songs passed down by in the oral tradition and usually told interesting tales of mystery, murder ballads, war or anti-war songs, sea shanties, drinking songs, work songs or songs of love lost or found.
Francis J. Child
One of the most famous of collections of these types of songs are found in the Francis J. Child Ballads, or “Child’s Ballads,” which is almost a genre by its self. Child’s five volume work, The English and Scottish Popular Ballads (1882-1898), is considered by many as the “canon” of folk music.
Let’s take a look at Child Ballad #84, or better known as Barbar Allen or Barb’ra Allen, which is widely known with numerous versions around the world. It’s origins are somewhere in the British Isles, Scotland and England both claim it. Versions are found as far afield as Italy and Scandanavia. And, of course, the U.S. According to one source, there are over 98 versions of the tune in Virginia alone.
So, let’s read over the lyrics. You really don’t need the melody because the words work well enough without them. It’s a good example of how a good story is as important to the song as the music or melody. Here there are seven verses. Notice that the song doesn’t have a chorus that repetes like a lot of modern pop songs. The name of Barb’ra Allen is repeted at the end of three verses but that is the only sign of repetition in the song.
For love of Barb’ra Allen.
He sent his servant to her door
To the town where he was dwellin’
Haste ye come, to my master’s call,
If your name be be Barb’ra Allen.
So slowly, slowly got she up,
And slowly she drew nigh him,
And all she said when there she came:
“Young man, I think you’re dying!”
He turned his face unto the wall
And death was drawing nigh him.
Good bye, Good bye to dear friends all,
Be kind to Bar’bra Allen
When he was dead and laid in grave,
She heard the death bell knelling.
And every note, did seem to say
Oh, cruel Barb’ra Allen
“Oh mother, mother, make my bed
Make it soft and narrow
Sweet William died, for love of me,
And I shall of sorrow.”
They buried her in the old churchyard
Sweet William’s grave was neigh hers
And from his grave grew a red, red rose
From hers a cruel briar.
They grew and grew up the old church spire
Until they could grow no higher
And there they twined, in a true love knot,
The red, red rose and the briar.
