Cold blows the wind to my true love,
And gently drops the rain.
I've never had but one true love,
And in green-wood he lies slain.

I'll do as much for my true love,
As any young girl may.
I'll sit and mourn all on his grave,
For twelve months and a day.

And when twelve months and a day was passed,
The ghost did rise and speak,
"Why sittest thou all on my grave
And will not let me sleep?"

Go fetch me water, my true love,
And blood from out the stone.
Go fetch me milk from a fair maid's breast
That young man has never known.

How oft on yonder grave, my true love,
Where we were want to walk.
The fairest flower that I ever saw
Has withered to my stalk.

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