The Unquiet Grave

‘You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips;
But my breath smells earthy strong;
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
Your time will not be long.

‘‘Tis down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk,
The finest flower that ere was seen
Is wither’d to a stalk.
( English folk song ) ‪#‎pennydreadful‬

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