The Unquiet Grave

Album cover art for "The Unquiet Grave" by Barbara Dickson

Barbara Dickson - Pop

The Unquiet Grave

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Duration: 5:26

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Lyrics

The wind doth blow today, my love A few small drops of rain; I never had but one true love In cold grave he is lain I'd do as much for my true love As any young girl may; I'd sit and mourn all on his grave For twelve month and a day The twelve months and a day were up A voice spoke from the deep Oh who is this sits on my grave And will not let me sleep? T' is I, t'is I, thy own true love That weeps upon on thy grave Until I have one kiss from your clay-cold lips No comfort will I have My lips are cold as clay, my love My breath is earthly strong; And had you one kiss from my clay-cold lips Your time would not be long: Down in yonder garden green Love, where we used to walk The sweetest rose that ever bloomed 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 So make yourself content my love Till death calls you away

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Credits

Writers
  • Traditional