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
Ill sit and mourn all on her grave
A twelve-month and a day.

The twelve-month 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 on kiss from your sweet lips
And that is all I seek

You crave one kiss from my clay cold lips
But my breath is earthly 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 younder 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.

How cold the wind do blow, dear love,
Cold are the drops of rain.
The very first love that ever I had
In the cold grave he is lain.

I'll do as much for my true love
As any young girl may,
I'll sit and mourn above his grave
For a twelvemonth and a day.

When twelve months and a day had gone
The ghost began to speak,
Why sit you here by my graveside
And will not let me sleep ?

O down in yonder green, sweetheart,
Where you and I did walk,
The fairest flower that blossomed there
Is withered to a stalk.

The stalk will bear no leaves, sweetheart,
The flower will never return,
And my true love is dead and gone,
And I do nought but mourn.

O don't you see the fire, sweetheart,
The fire that burns so blue,
Where my poor soul tormented is,
While I remain with you.

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.

There's one thing more I want, sweetheart,
There's one thing more I crave,
I want one kiss of your lily-white lips
And I'll go from your grave.

My cheek is cold as the clay, sweetheart,
My breath is earthy strong,
And if you kiss my lily-white lips
Your days will not be long.

Mourn not for me, my dearest dear,
Mourn not for me, I crave,
I must leave you and all the world,
And turn into my grave.

Now I have mourned upon his grave
A twelve-month and a day,
I'll set my sail before the wind
To waft me far away.

Cold blows the wind to my true love,
And gently drops the rain;
I never had but one true love
And in greenwood she lies slain,
And in greenwood she lies slain.

I'll do as much for my true love
As any young man may;
I'll sit and mourn all on her grave,
For a twelve-month and a day,
For a twelve month and a day.

When the twelve-month and one day was past
The ghost began to speak;
"Why sittest here all on my grave
And will not let me sleep,
And will not let me sleep ?"

My breast it is as cold as clay,
My breath is earthly strong;
And if you kiss my cold clay lips
Your days they won't be long,
Your days they won't be long.

O down in yonder grove, sweetheart,
Where we were wont to walk;
The first flower that ever I saw
Is withered to a stalk,
Is withered to a stalk.

The stalk is withered and dead, sweetheart,
And the flower will never return;
And since I lost my own true love
What can I do but mourn,
What can I do but mourn ?

When shall we meet again, sweetheart,
When shall we meet again ?
When the oaken leaves that fall from the trees
Are green and spring up again,
Are green and spring up again.