| Cold blows the wind over my true love
|
| Cold blows the drops of rain
|
| I never had but one true love
|
| And in Camville he was slain
|
| I’ll do as much for my true love
|
| As any young girl may
|
| I’ll sit and weep down by his grave
|
| For twelve month and one day
|
| But when twelve months were come and gone
|
| This young man he arose
|
| What makes you weep down by my grave
|
| I can’t take my repose
|
| One kiss, one kiss of your lily white lips
|
| One kiss is all I crave
|
| One kiss, one kiss of your lily white lips
|
| And return back to your grave
|
| My lips they are as cold as my clay
|
| My breath is heavy and strong
|
| If thou was to kiss my lily white lips
|
| Thy days would not be long
|
| Oh don’t you remember the garden grove
|
| Where we used to walk
|
| Pluck the finest flower of them all
|
| Twill wither to a stalk
|
| Go fetch me a nun from a dungeon deep
|
| And water from a stone
|
| And white milk from a maiden’s breast
|
| That babe ere never known
|
| Go dig me a grave both long wide and deep
|
| As quickly as you may
|
| I’ll lie down in it and take one sleep
|
| For twelve month and one day
|
| Cold blows the wind over my true love
|
| Cold blows the drops of rain
|
| I never had but one true love
|
| And in Camville he was slain
|
| I’ll do as much for my true love
|
| As any young girl may
|
| I’ll sit and weep down by his grave
|
| For twelve month and one day |