American Ballads and Songs

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And who so ready as her own brothers To rise and let him come in?
"Is Margret in her own bower room,
Or is she in her hall, Or is she in the kitchen
Among her merry maids all?"
"She's neither in the kitchen,
She's neither in her hall; But she is in her own bower room
Laid out against the wall."
"Raise up, raise up that coffin lid
So I can gaze within; And let me kiss her clay-cold lips
Lord send it the breath was in."
First he kissed her on the cheek,
And then he kissed her chin; And then he kissed her clay-cold lips
That oft times had kissed him.
"Fold down, fold down those snowy white sheets,
All made of linen so fine; Today they hang over Margret's corpse,
Tomorrow hang over mine."
Lyddy Margret died it might have been today, Sweet William died tomorrow.