Come Hither: A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of All Ages

by Unknown

The twelvemonth and a day being up,

The dead began to speak:

"Oh who sits weeping on my grave,

And will not let me sleep?"

"'Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,

And will not let you sleep;

For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,

And that is all I seek."

"You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;

But my breath smells earthy strong;