For the Love of Barbara Ellen

My mother was the musician in the family. she wasn't a concert pianist, but she could read music, and she could play almost anything she was willing to play by ear. On sunday afternoons she would sit at our battered old upright piano and play all the beautiful old songs of the church; the one you don't hear anymore. On Christmas eve she would play carols while we all gathered around and sang. All three of her children were required to learn at least the basics of the piano and practice at least an hour a day, although only Sis made any real progress. Mom was always humming or singing while doing her housework and would often stop to pick out a tune on the piano. When she died the music stopped.

It's not that Dad was untalented or disliked music. If sufficiently pestered he could whip out his harmonica and blow a sprightly tune. He simply didn'thave the time. He worked full time and over to provide for his wife and three children. In what little time remained he was involved in a myriad of projects that make a house a home. Whenever mom sat down at the piano he would stopwhat he was doing and listen until she finished before returning to work.

All three of us kids were grown and gone by the time we lost mom. My brother was living in Spain, but Sis and I were both worried about how dad would handle it. As it turned out he lived upto the Man Code adnirably. the next night he climbed into the bed his wife died in, and if he lost a moment's sleep we never heard about it. At least one of us would stop over almost every day. He seemed to be doing okay, but the house was quiet. The only music to be heard was the organ music brtween pitches when there was a ball game on.

When the first anniversary of mom's death came around we made sure he wouldn't be alone. About the middle of the afternoon I stopped over tompick him up for dinner with Sis. As I approached the front door I was astounded to hear the sound of the piano playing. When Istepped into the living room there was dad sitting at the piano playing. When he saw me he smiled and began to sing.

In Scarlet Town whereI was born there was a fair maid dwellin'
and every woor cried well-a-way, for her name was Barbara Ellen.

Barbara Ellen was my mother's name. I don't know which surprised me more,hearing my mother's name in a song or hearing my dad play it on the piano. As I struggled with cognitive dissonance dad got up and went upstairs to his bedroom. He returned bearing a rolled up paper tied with a blue ribbon. I unrolled and saw a piece of sheet music. The name across the top was (i)For the Love of Barbara Allen.(/i)

"I learned to play that when I was twenty years old. Took me near six months. When I had it down pat I handed her the music, then sat down and sang it to her. you can see I only had to change one letter. There was a ring threaded through the ribbon,but she didn't see it. I had to pick it up off the floor and give it to her. Last year when she died I thought maaybe the song would come true. In fact I wished it would. But I knew she would expectmore of me than that. I couldn't bear to disappoint her."

That was more than twenty years ago. Dad never remarried, but after a few years he got a long time girlfriend. He lived a busy, happy life and fulfilled his duty to spoil his grandkids rotten. In the end,nature took it's course. At his funeral Sis sat down at the piano and I stepped up to the microphone.

'Twas in the merry month of may, the green buds were a-swellin'
Sweet William on his deathbed lay for the love of Barbara Ellen.




For the Love of Barbara Allen.

In Scarlet Town where I was born there was a fair maid dwellin' and every woor cried well-a-way, for her name was Barbara Allen.

'Twas in the merry month of May, the green buds were a-swellin'. Sweet William on his deathbed lay for the love of Barbara Allen

He sent a servant unto her, to thr place that she was dwellin' saying "You must come to his deathbed now if your name be Barbara Allen.

Slowly, slowly she got up.Slowly she came nigh him and the only words to him she said, "young man I think your'e dying.

As she was walking o'er the fields she heard the death bell knelling.And ev'ry stroke it seemed to say, "Hard hearted Barbara Allan!"

"O mother, mother make my bed, make it long and make it narrow. Sweet William died for me today, I'll die for him tomorrow!"

They buried her in the old church yard, they buried him in the choir. From his grave grew a red,red rose, from her grave a greenbrier.

They grew and grew to the steeple top 'till they could grow no higher, and there they twined in a true love's knot, red rose around greenbrier