The Burly, Burly Banks of Barbry-O
Lyrics
There were three sisters picking flowers,
High in the lea and the lonely O.
They scarce had picked but one or two,
On the burly, burly banks of Barbry-O.
It's there they spied a bank-robber bold.
High in the lea, etc.
It's there they spied a bank-robber bold.
On the burly, etc.
He took the oldest by the hand.
He hurled her round 'n he made her stand,
Saying “Will you be a bank-robber's wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?"
“No, I won't be a bank-robber's wife;
I'd rather die by your penknife."
Then he took out his penknife;
It's there he ended her sweet life.
He took the next one by the had.
He hurled her round; he made her stand,
Saying “Will you be a bank-robber's wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?"
“No, I won't be a bank-robber's wife;
I'd rather die by your penknife."
Then he took out his penknife
And it's there he ended her sweet life.
He took the youngest by the hand,
He hurled her round; he made her stand,
Saying “Will you be a bank-robber's wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?"
"Yes, I will be a bank-robber's wife
So I won't die by your penknife.
“O dear, O dear, I wish my two brothers were here!"
“O what would your two brothers do?"
“For one is a minister; the other like you
On the burly, burly banks of Barbry-O."
Then he took out his penknife,
And it's there he ended his own life.
Sung by Mr. Elmer Barton of Quechee, VT, 1942. Excerpted from “Ballads Migrant in New England" by Helen Hartness Flanders and Marguerite Olney (Farrar, Straus and Young, 1953).
High in the lea and the lonely O.
They scarce had picked but one or two,
On the burly, burly banks of Barbry-O.
It's there they spied a bank-robber bold.
High in the lea, etc.
It's there they spied a bank-robber bold.
On the burly, etc.
He took the oldest by the hand.
He hurled her round 'n he made her stand,
Saying “Will you be a bank-robber's wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?"
“No, I won't be a bank-robber's wife;
I'd rather die by your penknife."
Then he took out his penknife;
It's there he ended her sweet life.
He took the next one by the had.
He hurled her round; he made her stand,
Saying “Will you be a bank-robber's wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?"
“No, I won't be a bank-robber's wife;
I'd rather die by your penknife."
Then he took out his penknife
And it's there he ended her sweet life.
He took the youngest by the hand,
He hurled her round; he made her stand,
Saying “Will you be a bank-robber's wife?
Or will you die by my penknife?"
"Yes, I will be a bank-robber's wife
So I won't die by your penknife.
“O dear, O dear, I wish my two brothers were here!"
“O what would your two brothers do?"
“For one is a minister; the other like you
On the burly, burly banks of Barbry-O."
Then he took out his penknife,
And it's there he ended his own life.
Sung by Mr. Elmer Barton of Quechee, VT, 1942. Excerpted from “Ballads Migrant in New England" by Helen Hartness Flanders and Marguerite Olney (Farrar, Straus and Young, 1953).