6.—COLD BLOWS THE WIND.
i Cold blows the wind to-night, true love, Cold are the drops of rain ; I never had but one sweetheart, And in greenwood she lies slain.
2 I'll do as much for my sweetheart
As any young man may; I'll sit and mourn all on her grave, A twelvemonth and a day.
3 The twelvemonth and a day was past,
The ghost began to speak. Why weep vou there upon my grave, And will not let me sleep?
4 What is it that you want of me.
And will not let me sleep? Your salten tears thev trickle down And wet my winding-sheet.
5 What dost thou want of me, true heart.
Of me what dost thou crave ? One only kiss from your lily-white lips, Then I'll go from your grave.
6 My lips are cold as clay, sweetheart,
My breath smells earthy strong, And if you kiss my lily-white lips Your time will not be long.
7 Mv time be short, my time be long,
To-morrow or to-day, May Christ in heaven have all my soul— But I'll kiss your lips of clay.
8 When shall we meet again, sweetheart? When shall we meet again ? When the oaken leaves that fall from the trees Are green—and spring again.