| The Wind doth blow today my love,
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| A few small drops the rain.
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| Never have I had but one true love,
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| In cold clay she is lain.
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| I’ll do as much for my true love,
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| As any young man may.
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| I’ll sit and mourn all on her grave,
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| A twelve month and a day.
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| The twelve month and a day been gone,
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| A voice spoke from the deep.
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| Who is it sits all on my grave.
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| And will not let me sleep?
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| Tis I Tis I thine own true love,
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| Who site upon your grave,
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| For I crave one kiss from your sweet lips,
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| And that is all i seek.
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| You crave one kiss from my clay cold lips,
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| But my breath is earthy strong.
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| Had you one kiss from my clay cold lips,
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| You’re time would not be long.
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| My time be long, my time be short,
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| Tomorrow or today,
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| May God in heaven have all my soul
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| But I’ll kiss you lips of clay.
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| See down in yonder garden green.
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| Love where we used to walk.
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| The sweetest flower that ever grew.
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| Is withered to the stalk.
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| The stalk is withered dry sweetheart,
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| So will our hearts decay.
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| So make yourself content, my love,
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| 'Til death calls you away. |