The Unquiet Grave! !
The wind dothblow today my love,
And a few drops of rain;
I never had but one true love,
In cold grave she was lain.
Ill do as much for my one true love,
As any young man may,
I'll sit and mourn all at her grave,
For a twelvemonth and a day.
The twelvemonth and a day being up,
Abd the dead begin to speak,
'Oh who sits weeping on my grave and wil not let me sleep? '
'Tis i my love, sits on your grave,
And will not let you sleep:
For i crave one kiss of your clay-clold-lips,
And that is all i seek.'
'You crave one kiss of my clay-cold-lips;
But my breath smells earthly strong,
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold-lips,
Your time will not be long.
'Tis down in younder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk,
The finest flower that ere was seen,
Has withered to a stalk.
The stalk is withered dry my love,
So will our hearts decay,
So make yourself content my love,
Till death calls you away!