Here is the promised version. I'd certainly like your thoughts on this one, Richie.

Barbara Allen.

In Reading town, where I was born,
A fair maid there was dwelling.
I pick'd her out to be my wife,
Her name was Barbara Allen.

It was in the month of merry May,
When green leaves they were springing
A young man on a sick bed lay,
For the sake of Barbara Allen.

He sent to her a servant man
To the place where she was dwelling,
Saying, fair maid, to my master come,
If your name be Barbara Allen.

So slowly, so slowly she walk'd on,
So slowly she got to him,
And when she got to his bed-side,
Young man, she said, you're dying,

Nothing but death is painted in your face
All joys are flown from thee,
I cannot save thee from the grave,
So farewell, my dear Johnny,

He turn'd his face unto the wall,
And turned his face from her,
And as he turned those words he said,
Hard hearted Barbara Allen.

Don't you remember the other day,
You in the ale-house was drinking,
Where every lad drank to his lass
You slighted Barbara Allen.

As she was walking in the fields
she heard the bells a ringing,
And as they rang they seem'd to say
"Hard hearted Barbara Allen.

As she was walking up the town
She saw the corpse a coming;
You little hearts come set him down,
And let me look upon him,

The more she look'd the more she laugh'd
The farther she got from him,
Until all her friends cried, Fie! for shame,
Hard hearted Barbara Aleen.

Then when she came unto the grave
She bursted out a crying,
I wish I had more kinder been
When I was nearer to him.

Twas he that died on one good day,
And she died on the morrow;
And Johnny Groves he died for love,
Barbara Allen died for sorrow.

The one was buried in the chancel top,
The other in the choir;
On Johnny Groves there grows a rose,
On Barbara Allen a brier.

The brier it growed to the chancel top,
Until it could grow no higher,
And there it met in a true lover's knot,
For thousands to admire.

Madden Collection 5095. As I said it has no imprint and looks to be second half of the 19thc. It could though easily be a copy of something much earlier. When I suggested it could be the original of the Scots version and the 19thc well-known broadside, equally it could be a pastiche of those 2. It certainly reads as being very folky and may have been subject to oral tradition as opposed to the earlier print versions.