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The Unquiet Grave
Penny Dreadful
The Unquiet Grave

My breast it is as cold as clay,
My breath smells earthly strong;
And if you kiss my cold clay lips,
Your days they won’t be long,
Your days they won’t be long.

O down in yonder grave, sweetheart,
Where you and I would walk,
The first flower that ever I saw
Is withered to a stalk,
Is withered to a stalk.

The stalk is witherd and dry, sweetheart,
And the flower will never return;
And since I lost my own sweetheart,
What can I do but mourn?
What can I do but mourn?

When shall we meet again, sweetheart?
When shall we meet again?
When the oaken leaves that fall from the trees
Are green and spring up again,
Are green and spring up again”

                            “When Lucifer fall, it doesn’t fall alone”