The Unquiet Grave- Kinslow (NL) 1959 Peacock A
Peacock collected two variants (See also: Decker Version B) of The Unquiet Grave [Child ballad #78] The English And Scottish Popular Ballads (1882-1898) edited by Francis James Child (Dover, 1965). Also variants of a British broadside ballad, The Weeping Lover, published by W. Wright (Birmingham) sometime between 1820 and 1831, and archived at the Bodleian Library Broadside Ballads, shelfmark: 2806 c.17(460).
Kenneth Peacock noted that the tunes of both variants are similar, though Mr. Decker's has a duple pulse. His variant is more unusual in having the girl mourn by her lover's grave. The texts of the A variant are very similar and were collated to give the best wording. Peacock also noted that there is a widespread superstition right across Asia and Europe that prolonged and excessive grieving disturbs the peace of the dead. The lovely 'lover's-task' verses (6 and 7) of variant A are not found in Professor Child's variants, though one of the variants in the [Cecil] Sharp [1859-1924] manuscripts contains a similar verse.
The Unquiet Grave (Version A)- Collated from songs collected in 1959 from Mrs. Wallace Kinslow of Isle aux Morts, NL, and in 1960 from Jim Keeping of Burnt Island, NL, by Kenneth Peacock and published in Songs Of The Newfoundland Outports, Volume 2, pp.410-411, by the National Museum of Canada (1965)
Come blow me some winds tonight, my love,
Come blow me sweet drops of rain,
For I only had but one true love
And in Greenwood she was slain.
For I can do as much for my true love
As any young man can say,
I'll sit and mourn all 'round her grave
For a twelve-month and one day.
When the twelve-month and one day were past
Her spirit began to speak:
"What makes you mourn all 'round my grave,
For you will not let me sleep?"
"Just one more kiss from your sweet lips,
That is all I do crave,
If I could once kiss your sweet lips
Then I'd go straight from your grave."
"My lips are cold tonight, sweetheart,
My breath it smells earthy and strong,
If you get one kiss from my cold lips
Your time it won't be long.
"Go fetch me an egg from the billows so deep,
Or water out of a stone,
Or milk all from a fair maid's breast
Where the fair maid never had none."
"How can I fetch you an egg from the billows so deep,
Or water out of a stone,
Or milk all from a fair maid's breast
Where the fair maid never had none?"
"You go down in some yonder green grove
Where true loves used to walk,
And there you'll find so fine a flower
All withered unto the stalk.
"All withered unto the stalk, sweetheart,
And the leaves are all withered and gone,
And I must leave you and die, fair girl,
And go straight to my home."