The (G)wind does (C)blow to(D)day, my (D7)love,

(C)A few small (G)drops of (D)rain;(D7)

(G)Never had I (Bm)had but (Am)one true-(C)love,

In (G)cold grave (D)she (D7)is (G)lain.

 

I'll (G)do as (C)much for (D)my true-(D7)love,

(C)As any (G)young man (D)may;(D7)

I'll (G)sit and (Bm)mourn all (Am)on her (C)grave

A (G)twelvemonth (D)and (D7)a (G)day.

 

The (G)twelvemonth (C)and a (D)day being (D7)gone,

(C)A voice spoke (G)from the (D)deep(D7)

'(G)Who is it  (Bm)sits all (Am)on my (C)grave,

And (G)will not (D)let (D7)me (G)sleep?

 

'Tis (G)I, tis (C)I, thine (D)own true-(D7)love

(C)Who sits u(G)pon your (D)grave;(D7)

For I (G)crave one (Bm)kiss from (Am)your sweet (C)lips,

And (G)that is (D)all (D7)I (G)seek.

 

You (G)crave one (C)kiss from my (D)clay-cold (D7)lips;

(C)But my breath is (G)earthly (D)strong;(D7)  

Had (G)you one (Bm)kiss from my (Am)clay-cold (C)lips,   

Your (G)time would (D)not (D7)be (G)long.

 

My (G)time be (C)low, my (D)time be (D7)short

(C)Tomorrow (G)or to(D)day;(D7)

May (G)God in (Bm)heaven have (Am)all my (C)soal

But I’ll (G)kiss your (D)lips (D7)of (G)clay.

 

"See (G)down in (C)yonder (D)garden (D7)green,

(C)Love, where we (G)used to (D)walk,(D7)

The (G)sweetest (Bm)flower that (Am)ever (C)grew

Is (G)withered (D)to (D7)a (G)stalk.

 

The (G)stalk is (C)withered (D)dry, my (D7)love,

(C)So will our (G)hearts de(D)cay;(D7)

So (G)make your(Bm)self con(Am)tent, my (C)love,

Till (G)death calls (D)you (D7)a(G)way.