The Unquiet Grave

Cold blows the wind upon my true love
 Soft falls the gentle rain
 I never had but one true love
 And in Greenwood, she lies slain
 I'd lose much for my true love
 As any young man may
 I'll sit, and I'll mourn upon your grave
 For 12 months and a day
 When the 12th month and one day had passed
 The ghost began to speak
 "Who is it that sits all on my grave
 And will not let me sleep?"
 'Tis I, 'tis I, thine own true love
 That sits upon your grave
 I ask of one kiss from your sweet lips
 And that is all I crave
 My lips, they are as clay, my love
 My breath is earthy strong
 And if you should kiss my clay-cold lips
 Your time, it would not be long
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 Look down in the yonder garden fair
 Love, where we used to walk
 The fairest flower that ever bloomed
 Has withered down to the stalk
 The stalk, it has withered and dried, my love
 So will our hearts decay
 So make yourself content, my love
 'Til death calls you away