
The Unquiet Grave (Modern English Version)
The wind blows today, my love,
And a few small drops of rain;
I never had but one true love;
In a cold grave she was lain.
I’ll do as much for my true love
As any young man may;
I’ll sit and mourn at her grave
For a twelvemonth and a day.
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?”
“It is I, my love, who sits on your grave,
And will not let you sleep;
For I crave one kiss from your clay-cold lips,
And that is all I seek.”
“You crave one kiss from my clay-cold lips;
But my breath smells earthy strong;
If you have one kiss from my clay-cold lips,
Your time will not be long.
It’s down in yonder green garden,
Love, where we used to walk,
The finest flower that ever was seen
Is withered to a stalk.
The stalk is withered dry, my love,
So will our hearts decay;
So make yourself content, my love,
Till God calls you away.”