Luke Kelly - The unquiet grave

The ^FWind doth ^Fblow to^Gday my ^Flove, A ^Ffew small ^Fdrops the ^Grain. ^FNever have I ^Ghad but ^Fone true ^Flove, In ^Fcold clay ^Gshe is ^Flain.

I'll ^Fdo as ^Fmuch for ^Gmy true ^Flove, As ^Fany young ^Fman ^Gmay. I'll ^Fsit and ^Gmourn all ^Fon her ^Fgrave, A ^Ftwelve month ^Gand a ^Fday.

The ^Ftwelve month ^Fand a ^Gday been ^Fgone, A ^Fvoice spoke ^Ffrom the ^Gdeep. "^F;Who i^Gs it sits^F all o^Fn my grave. And ^Fwill not ^Glet me ^Fsleep?"

Tis ^FI Tis ^FI thine ^Gown true ^Flove, Who ^Fsits u^Fpon your ^Ggrave, For I ^Fcrave one ^Gkiss from ^Fyour sweet ^Flips, And ^Fthat is ^Gall I ^Fseek.

"^F;You crave^F one kiss fro^Gm my clay ^Fcold lips, But ^Fmy breath is ^Fearthy ^Gstrong. ^FHad you one ^Gkiss from my clay ^Fcold ^Flips, You're ^Ftime would ^Gnot be ^Flong"

My ^Ftime be ^Flong, my ^Gtime be ^Fshort, To^Fmorrow ^For to^Gday, ^FMay God in ^Gheaven have ^Fall my ^Fsoul But I'll ^Fkiss your ^Glips of ^Fclay.

See ^Fdown in ^Fyonder ^Ggarden ^Fgreen. ^FLove where we ^Fused to ^Gwalk. The ^Fsweetest ^Gflower that ^Fever ^Fgrew. Is ^Fwithered ^Gto the ^Fstalk.

The ^Fstalk is ^Fwithered ^Gdry my ^Flove ^FSo will our ^Fhearts de^Gcay. So ^Fmake your^Gself con^Ftent, my ^Flove, 'Till ^Fdeath calls ^Gyou a^Fway."