Why does thou sit upon my grave
And will dead lips to speak?
Why does thou weep upon my grave
And will not let me sleep?

My breast it is as cold as clay
My breath is earthly strong
And if you kiss my cold clay lips
Your days they won't be long

How oft on yonder grave, sweetheart
Where we were won't to walk
The fairest flower that e'er I saw
Has withered to a stalk

When will we meet again, sweetheart?
When will we meet again?
When the autumn leaves that fall from trees
Are green and spring up again

How oft on yonder grave, sweetheart
Where we were won't to walk
The fairest flower that e'er I saw
Has withered to a stalk