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