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The Unquiet Grave

    How cold the wind do blow, dear love,
    Cold are the drops of rain.
    The very first love that ever I had
    In the cold grave he is lain.

    I'll do as much for my true love
    As any young girl may,
    I'll sit and mourn above his grave
    For a twelvemonth and a day.

    When twelve months and a day had gone
    The ghost began to speak,
    Why sit you here by my graveside
    And will not let me sleep ?

    O down in yonder green, sweetheart,
    Where you and I did walk,
    The fairest flower that blossomed there
    Is withered to a stalk.

    The stalk will bear no leaves, sweetheart,
    The flower will never return,
    And my true love is dead and gone,
    And I do nought but mourn.

    O don't you see the fire, sweetheart,
    The fire that burns so blue,
    Where my poor soul tormented is,
    While I remain with you.

    What is it that you want of me
    And will not let me sleep ?
    Your salten tears they trickle down
    And wet my winding sheet.

    There's one thing more I want, sweetheart,
    There's one thing more I crave,
    I want one kiss of your lily-white lips
    And I'll go from your grave.

    My cheek is cold as the clay, sweetheart,
    My breath is earthy strong,
    And if you kiss my lily-white lips
    Your days will not be long.

    Mourn not for me, my dearest dear,
    Mourn not for me, I crave,
    I must leave you and all the world,
    And turn into my grave.

    Now I have mourned upon his grave
    A twelve-month and a day,
    I'll set my sail before the wind
    To waft me far away.