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A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE
This ae nighte, this ae nighte, —Every nighte and a.'Ie,
Fire and fleet and candle-lighte, And Chr'tste receive thy saule.
34. The 'Unquiet Grave
THE wind doth blow to-day, my love, And a few small drops of rain ;
I never had but one true-love; In cold grave she was lain.
' I'll do as much for my true-love
As any young man may ; I'll sit and mourn all at her grave For a twelvemonth and a day.'
in 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 ?'—
' 'Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,
And will not let you sleep ; For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips, And that is all I seek.'— 140