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Cold blows the wind to my true love |
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And gently drops the rain |
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I've never had but one true love |
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And in green-wood he lies slain |
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I'll do as much for my true love |
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As any young girl may |
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I'll sit and mourn all on his grave |
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For a twelve months and a day |
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And when twelve months and a day was passed |
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The ghost did rise and speak |
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Why sittest thou all on my grave |
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And will no let me sleep? |
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Go fetch me water from the desert |
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And blood from out the stone |
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Go fetch me milk from a fair maid's breast |
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That young man never has known |
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How oft on yonder grave, sweetheart |
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Where we were want to walk |
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The fairest flower that e'er I saw |
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Has withered to a stalk |
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A stalk has withered and dead, sweetheart |
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The flower will never return |
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And since I've lost my own true love |
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What can I do but yearn |
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When will we meet again, sweetheart |
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When will we meet again? |
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When the autumn leaves that fall from the trees |
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Are green and spring up again |
