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Child #78
as recorded by Ian Campbell Folk Group
UNQUIET GRAVE
The wind doth blow tonight, my love
A few small drops of rain
I never had but one true love
In cold clay she is lain
I'll do as much for my true love
As any young man may
I'll sit and mourn upon her grave
A twelvemonth and a day
The twelvemonth and a day being up
A voice spoke from the deep
Who is it sits and weeps upon my grave
And will not let me sleep
'Tis I, 'tis I, thy own true love
That weeps upon thy grave
Until I have one kiss from your cold lips
No comfort will I have
My lips are cold as clay, my love
My breath is earthy strong
And had you one kiss from my cold lips
You time would not be long
Down in yonder garden gay
Love, where we used to walk
The sweetest flower that ever I saw
Is withered to a stalk
The stalk is withered dry, my love
So will our hearts decay
So hold yourself content, my love
Till death calls you away
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