The Unquiet Grave

And a few small drops of rain;

I never had but one true love,

In cold grave she was lain.

I'll do as much for my 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

The dead began to speak,

"Oh who sits 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 clay-cold lips

And that is all I seek."

"You crave one kiss of 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:

'Tis down in yonder garden green,

Love, where we used to walk,

The finest flower that ere was seen

Is withered to a stalk.

The stalk is withered dry, my love,

So will our hearts decay;

So make yourself content, my love,

Till God calls you away."