Cold

Cold blows the wind tonight my love

Cold are the drops of rain

I only had one but true-love,

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 upon her grave

For twelve months and a day.

The twelve months and a day veing o'er,

A voice cries from the deep;

"Who is it weeps upon my grave,

And will not let me sleep? "

"'Tis I, 'tis I, your own true-love

Who sits upon your grave,

'Til 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 if you had one kiss from my cold lips,

Then your time would not be long.

O down in yonder shady grove,

Love, where we used to walk,

The fairest flower that groweth there

Is withered to a stalk.

And the stalk is withered dry true-love

So will our hearts decay.

So make yourself content my love,

"Til Death calls you away. "

( My Friend Joshua )