Matikář - naučíme matematiku. Každého. - nová česká sázková kancelář

The Unquiet Grave (Child No. 78) (Baez Joan)

Cold blows the wind to my true love And gently drops the rain I've never had but one true love And in green-wood he lies slain I'll do as much for my true love As any young girl may I'll sit and mourn all on his grave For a twelve months and a day And when twelve months and a day was passed The ghost did rise and speak Why sittest thou all on my grave And will no let me sleep? Go fetch me water from the desert And blood from out the stone Go fetch me milk from a fair maid's breast That young man never has known How oft on yonder grave, sweetheart Where we were want to walk The fairest flower that e'er I saw Has withered to a stalk A stalk has withered and dead, sweetheart The flower will never return And since I've lost my own true love What can I do but yearn When will we meet again, sweetheart When will we meet again? When the autumn leaves that fall from the trees Are green and spring up again