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Barbara Allen

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Dificuldade: facil | Estilo: folk tradicional / ballad | Sentimento: triste, narrativa | Ocasião: voz e violao,playlist,roda | Tags: folk, tradicional, ballad, barbara allen, violao, facil, melancolica

A FAQ is a curated list of questions and answers designed to address aspects of a topic that are important, often unknown or misunderstood. It

is an acronym that expands to "frequently asked question" or "frequently asked questions". While either expansion implies that questions are often asked, they generally are not. FAQ is more about the question-answer format and an indication of the relevance of the content. Each question may be conglomerated from multiple real questions, what an author anticipates a reader will wonder about, or is simply a way of organizing information. Thumbpicking, também chamada de Travis picking, em referência a Merle Travis, é uma técnica de tocar guitarra ou violão utilizando o polegar da mão direita para o baixo ou ritmo, e os outros dedos para fazer a parte da melodia. Merle Travis tornou famosa essa técnica, originada dos músicos black country blues, que depois foi sofisticada por Chet Atkins.

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transcribed by: phaedrus@southwind.net II-----------------Â means to bar second (II) fret for all notes beneath the dotted line. This is optional, but it helps move things along. D A7 Bm D E7 A e---2-----------------0--------------------------------------------| b---3-----------------2-----3---------3-----3--------2------------| g---2-----------------0-----4---------2-----1--------2------------| d---0-----------------------4---------0-----2--------2------------| a---------------------0-----2------------------------0------------| e-------------------------------------2-----0---------------------| In Scarlet Town where I was born, There was a fair maid dwellin'. Made G D Bm D G A7 D II--------------Â e---------------------------------------------------0--3-----------| b--3-------------3-----2-------3------3---------0--2--2-----------| g--4---------0---2--------4-----------2---------0--0--3-----------| d--5-------------4--------4---------------------0------0----0-----| a-------------------------2------------------------0---------------| e--------------------------------------2--------3------------------| ev'ry youth cry "Well - a - day," Her name was Barbara Allen. All D Bm D E7 A II------Â e------2------------------------------------------------------------| b------3------------3--------------------3----3-----2--------------| g----2--------------4--------------------2----1-----2--------------| d-0--------------4------------------0---------2-----2--------------| a-------------2-------------------------------------0------0-------| e-------------------------------2-------------0--------------------| in the merry month of May, When green buds they were swellin' Young G D Bm D G A7 D II----------Â e--------------------------------------------------0----3-----------| b--------0----------3----2-------------3------0---2----2-----------| g--------0----------2--------4---------2------0---0----3-----------| d-----0-------5-----4--------4---------0------0--------0------0----| a----------------------------2---0----------------0-----------------| e-3------------------------------------2------3---------------------| Jemmy Grove on his deathbed lay, For love of Bar - bara Allen. He sent his man unto her then, To the town where she was dwellin'; 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 stealin'; Then haste away to comfort him, O lovely Barbara Allen. Though death be printed on his face, And o'er his heart is stealin', Yet little better shall he be, For bonnie Barbara Allen. So slowly, slowly, she came up, And slowly she came nigh him, And all she said, when there she came, Young man I think you're dying. He turned his face unto her straight, With deadly sorrow sighing; O lovely maid, come pity me, I'm on my deathbed lying. If on your deathbead you do lie, What needs the tale your tellin', I cannot keep you from your death; Farewell, said Barbara Allen When he was dead and laid in grave, Her heart was struck with sorrow, O mother, mother, make my bed, For I shall die tomorrow. Hard-hearted creature him to slight, Who loved me so dearly; O that I'd been more kind to him, When he was alive and near me! She, on her deathbed as she lay, Begg'd 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.
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