| |
I
‘THE WIND doth blow today, my love, | |
| And a few small drops of rain; | |
| I never had but one true-love; | |
| In cold grave she was lain. | |
| |
II
‘I’ll do as much for my true-love | 5 |
| As any young man may; | |
| I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave | |
| For a twelvemonth and a day.’ | |
| |
III
The twelvemonth and a day being up, | |
| The dead began to speak: | 10 |
| ‘Oh who sits weeping on my grave, | |
| And will not let me sleep?’— | |
| |
IV
‘’Tis I, my love, sits on your grave, | |
| And will not let you sleep; | |
| For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips, | 15 |
| And that is all I seek.’— | |
| |
V
‘You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips; | |
| But my breath smells earthy strong; | |
| If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips, | |
| Your time will not be long. | 20 |
| |
VI
‘’Tis down in yonder garden green, | |
| Love, where we used to walk, | |
| The finest flower that ere was seen | |
| Is wither’d to a stalk. | |
| |
VII
‘The stalk is wither’d dry, my love, | 25 |
| So will our hearts decay; | |
| So make yourself content, my love, | |
| Till God calls you away.’ | |
| |
