78A: The Unquiet Grave

78A.1	‘THE wind doth blow today, my love,
	And a few small drops of rain;
	I never had but one true-love,
	In cold grave she was lain.
78A.2	‘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.’
78A.3	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?’
78A.4	‘’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.’
78A.5	‘You crave one kiss of my 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.
78A.6	‘’Tis down in yonder garden green,
	Love, where we used to walk,
	The finest flower that ere was seen
	Is withered to a stalk.
78A.7	‘The stalk is withered dry, my love,
	So will our hearts decay;
	So make yourself content, my love,
	Till God calls you away.’

78B: The Unquiet Grave

78B.1	‘HOW cold the wind do blow, dear love,
	And see the drops of rain!
	I never had but one true-love,
	In the green wood he was slain.
78B.2	‘I would do as much for my own true-love
	As in my power doth lay;
	I would sit and mourn all on his grave
	For a twelvemonth and a day.’
78B.3	A twelvemonth and a day being past,
	His ghost did rise and speak:
	‘What makes you mourn all on my grave?
	For you will not let me sleep.’
78B.4	‘It is not your gold I want, dear love,
	Nor yet your wealth I crave;
	But one kiss from your lily-white lips
	Is all I wish to have.
78B.5	‘Your lips are cold as clay, dear love,
	Your breath doth smell so strong;’
	‘I am afraid, my pretty, pretty maid,
	Your time will not be long.’

78C: The Unquiet Grave

78C.1	‘COLD blows the wind oer my true-love,
	Cold blow the drops of rain;
	I never, never had but one sweetheart,
	In the greenwood he was slain.
78C.2	‘I did as much for my true-love
	As ever did any maid;
	. . . . .
	. . . . .
	* * * * *
78C.3	‘One kiss from your lily-cold lips, true-love,
	One kiss is all I pray,
	And I’ll sit and weep all over your grave
	For a twelvemonth and a day.’
78C.4	‘My cheek is as cold as the clay, true-love,
	My breath is earthy and strong;
	And if I should kiss your lips, true-love,
	Your life would not be long.’

78D: The Unquiet Grave

78D.1	‘PROUD BOREAS makes a hideous noise,
	Loud roars the fatal fleed;
	I loved never a love but one,
	In church-yard she lies dead.
78D.2	‘But I will do for my love’s sake
	What other young men may;
	I’ll sit and mourn upon her grave,
	A twelvemonth and a day.’
78D.3	A twelvemonth and a day being past,
	The ghost began to speak:
	‘Why sit ye here upon my grave,
	And will not let me sleep?’
78D.4	‘One kiss of your lily-white lips
	Is all that I do crave;
	And one kiss of your lily-white lips
	Is all that I would have.’
78D.5	‘Your breath is as the roses sweet,
	Mine as the sulphur strong;
	If you get one kiss of my lips,
	Your days would not be long.
78D.6	‘Mind not ye the day, Willie,
	Sin you and I did walk?
	The firstand flower that we did pu
	Was witherd on the stalk.’
78D.7	‘Flowers will fade and die, my dear,
	Aye as the tears will turn;
	And since I’ve lost my own sweet-heart,
	I’ll never cease but mourn.’
78D.8	‘Lament nae mair for me, my love,
	The powers we must obey;
	But hoist up one sail to the wind,
	Your ship must sail away.’

78[E]: The Unquiet Grave

78[E].1	‘Cold blows the wind over my true love,
	Cold blows the drops of rain;
	I never, never had but one sweet-heart,
	In the green wood he was slain.
78[E.2]	‘But I’ll do as much for my true love
	As any young girl can do;
	I’ll sit and I’ll weep by his grave-side
	For a twelvemonth and one day.’
78[E.3]	When the twelvemonth’s end and one day was past,
	This young man he arose:
	‘What makes you weep by my grave-side
	For twelve months and one day?’
78[E.4]	‘Only one kiss from your lily cold lips,
	One kiss is all I crave;
	Only one kiss from your lily cold lips,
	And return back to your grave.’
78[E.5]	‘My lip is cold as the clay, sweet-heart,
	My breath is earthly strong;
	If you should have a kiss from my cold lip,
	Your days will not be long.’
78[E.6]	‘Go fetch me a note from the dungeon dark,
	Cold water from a stone;
	There I’ll sit and weep for my true love
	For a twelvemonth and one day.
78[E.7]	‘Go dig me a grave both long, wide and deep;
	I will lay down in it and take one sleep,
	For a twelvemonth and one day;
	I will lay down in it and take a long sleep,
	For a twelvemonth and a day.’

78[F]: The Unquiet Grave

78[F].1	‘Cold blows the wind over my true love,
	Cold blow the drops of rain;
	I never, never had but one true love,
	And in Camvile he was slain.
78[F.2]	‘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 months and one day.’
78[F.3]	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 respose.’
78[F.4]	‘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.’
78[F.5]	‘My lips they are as cold as my clay,
	My breath is heavy and strong;
	If thou wast to kiss my lily-white lips,
	Thy days would not be long.
78[F.6]	‘O don’t you remember the garden-grove
	Where we was used to walk?
	Pluck the finest flower of them all,
	’Twill wither to a stalk.’
78[F.7]	‘Go fetch me a nut from a dungeon deep,
	And water from a stone,
	And white milk from a maiden’s breast
	[That babe bare never none].’

78[G]: The Unquiet Grave

78[G].1	‘Cold blows the wind to-day, sweetheart,
	Cold are the drops of rain;
	The first truelove that ever I had
	In the green wood he was slain.
78[G.2]	‘’Twas down on the garden-green, sweetheart,
	Where you and I did walk;
	The fairest flower that in the garden grew
	Is witherd to a stalk.
78[G.3]	‘The stalk will bear no leaves, sweetheart,
	The flowers will neer return,
	And since my truelove is dead and gone,
	What can I do but mourn?’
78[G.4]	A twelvemonth and a day being gone,
	The spirit rose and spoke:
	. . . . . . .
	. . . . . . .
78[G.5]	‘My body is clay-cold, sweetheart,
	My breath smells heavy and strong,
	And if you kiss my lily-white lips
	Your time will not be long.’

78[Ha]: The Unquiet Grave

78[Ha].1	‘Cold blows the wind tonight, sweet-heart,
	Cold are the drops of rain;
	The very first love that ever I had
	In greenwood he was slain.
78[Ha.2]	‘I’ll do as much for my sweet-heart
	As any young woman may;
	I’ll sit and mourn on his grave-side
	A twelve-month and a day.’
78[Ha.3]	A twelve-month and a day being up,
	The ghost began to speak:
	‘Why sit you here by my grave-side
	And will not let me sleep?
78[Ha.4]	‘What is it that you want of me,
	Or what of me would have?’
	‘A kiss from off your lily-white lips,
	And that is all I crave!’
78[Ha.5]	‘Cold are my lips in death, sweet-heart,
	My breath is earthy strong;
	To gain a kiss of my cold lips,
	Your time would not be long.
78[Ha.6]	‘If you were not my own sweet-heart,
	As now I know you be,
	I’d tear you as the withered leaves
	That grew on yonder tree.’
78[Ha.7]	‘O don’t you mind the garden, love,
	Where you and I did walk?
	The fairest flower that blossomd there
	Is withered on the stalk.
	* * * * * * *
78[Ha.8]	‘And now I’ve mourned upon his grave
	A twelvemonth and a day,
	We’ll set our sails before the wind
	And so we’ll sail away.’

78[Hb]: The Unquiet Grave

78[Hb].1	Cold blows the wind to-night, my love,
	Cold are the drops of rain;
	The very first love that ever I had
	In greenwood he was slain.
78[Hb.2]	‘I’ll do as much for my true-love
	As any young woman may;
	I’ll sit and mourn upon his grave
	A twelve-month and a day.’
78[Hb.3]	When a twelve-month and a day were up,
	His body straight arose:
	‘What brings you weeping oer my grave
	That I get no respose?’
78[Hb.4]	‘O think upon the garden, love,
	Where you and I did walk;
	The fairest flower that blossomd there
	Is withered on the stalk.
78[Hb.5]	‘The stalk will bear no leaves, sweet-heart,
	The flower will neer return,
	And my true-love is dead, is dead,
	And i do naught but mourn.’
78[Hb.6]	‘What is it that you want of me
	And will not let me sleep?
	Your salten tears they trickle down
	And wet my winding-sheet.’
78[Hb.7]	‘What is it that I want of thee,
	O what of thee in grave?
	A kiss from off your lily-white lips,
	And that is all I crave.’
78[Hb.8]	‘Cold are my lips in death, sweet-heart,
	My breath is earthy strong;
	If you do touch my clay-cold lips,
	Your time will not be long.’
78[Hb.9]	‘Cold though your lips in death, sweet-heart,
	One kiss is all I crave;
	I care not, if I kiss but thee,
	That I should share thy grave.’
78[Hb.10]	‘Go fetch me a light from dungeon deep,
	Wring water from a stone,
	And likewise milk from a maiden’s breast
	That never maid hath none.  (read babe had.)
	* * * * * * *
78[Hb.11]	‘Now if you were not true in word,
	As now I know you be,
	I’d tear you as the withered leaves
	Are torn from off the tree.’

78[Hc]: The Unquiet Grave

78[Hc].1	‘It’s for to meet the falling drops,
	Cold fall the drops of rain;
	The last true-love, etc.
78[Hc.2]	‘I’ll do as much for my fair love
	as any,’ etc.
the	rest "[almost exactly"] as b.