C.J.S.
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1
"Cold blows the wind of night, sweet-heart,
Cold are the drops of rain;
The very first love that ever I had,
In green-wood he was slain.
2
"I'll do as much for my true-love
As any fair maiden may;
I'll sit and mourn upon his grave
A twelvemonth and a day."
3
A twelvemonth and a day being up,
The ghost began to speak;
"Why sit you here by my grave-side
From dusk till dawning break?"