"The wind doth blow today, my love,

And a few small drops of rain;

I never had bot one true love,

In cold grave he was lain."



"I'll do as much for my true love

As any young woman may;

I'll sit and mourn all at his grave

For a twelvemonth and a day."



The twelve,,omth and a day being up,

The dead begain to speak:

"Oh who sit weeping on my grave,

And will 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 cold lips,

And that is all I seek."



"You crave one kiss of my cold lips;

But my breath smells earthy strong;

If you have one kiss of my cold lips,

Your time will not be long."



"Tis down in yonder garden green,

Love, where we used to walk,

The finst dlower that ere was seen

Is withered to stalk."



"The stalk is withered dry, my love,

So will our hearts decay;

So make yourself content, my love,

Tidd God calls you away."
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