| The wind doth blow
|
| today my love
|
| A few small drops of rain
|
| Never have I had
|
| but one true love
|
| In cold clay she is laid
|
| I’ll do as much
|
| for my true love
|
| As any young man may
|
| I’ll sit and mourn
|
| all on her grave
|
| At twelve months and a day
|
| The twelve months and the day being gone
|
| A voice spoke from the deep
|
| Who is it sits
|
| all on my grave
|
| And will not let me sleep
|
| 'Tis I, 'tis I,
|
| Thine own true love
|
| Who sits upon your grave
|
| For I crave one kiss
|
| from your sweet lips
|
| And that is all I seek
|
| You crave one kiss
|
| from my clay cold lips
|
| But my breath is earthy strong
|
| Had you one kiss
|
| from my clay cold lips
|
| Your time would not be long
|
| My time be long,
|
| my time be short
|
| Tomorrow or today
|
| May God in heaven
|
| have all my soul
|
| But I’ll kiss your lips of clay
|
| See down in yonder garden green
|
| Love where we used to walk
|
| The sweetest flower
|
| that ever grew
|
| Is withered to the stalk
|
| The stalk is withered dry my love
|
| So will our hearts decay
|
| So make yourself
|
| content my love
|
| Till death calls you away |