Upon the hallowed ground she stood The wind blew through her hair A swallow swooped o’er the darkening sky And the scent of rain filled the air
She heard the voices loud as thunder Echo o'er hill and down And warily she watched them Ride their ghost mounts into the town
The rain now fell in torrents Upon the hallowed field But she moved not from her own same spot As a deathly grip bid her yield
A hand of ice held fast her hem Though she struggled against its grasp She begged it there to let her go Then from the earth she heard it rasp
‘One kiss my bonny sweetheart the years were long since I saw thee last It be cold here in the hallowed ground Though I be but a memory of the past.’
‘I fought here on the battle ground with rapier high and voice aloft till down the enemy struck me fast to lie in blood on the damp ground soft.’
The hand then loosed its steely grasp And she saw her true love’s form A cold and bleeding upon the ground as more furious grew the storm
As the rain then pelted down around The long lost lovers in their embrace His bonny sweetheart spoke to him With trembling lip and heart that raced
‘My own true love, my only Long waited I for your return I scorned the suitors who sought my hand for your memory I would not scorn.
‘I prayed long for word or news of thy well being or how thee faired, but none e’re came to me at all so I waited, hoping you had been spared.’
‘A truer love man never had that would wait through tears and time and keep the hope that I still lived to find that in the ground I lie.
Forgive me, love, I’ve done thee wrong To make thee wait for me so Take my hand with one last kiss And then my love, you must go.’
‘Nay my only, only love, it’s here with you I’ll stay I’ll not go back without thee, I’ll stay by thy side, come what may.’
So upon the hallowed ground she lay Hair damp and soaked to the skin And by his side she lay all night As she clutched his hand so thin.
The town knew not where she had gone But in the morn they found She’s gone to be with her one true love Dead, upon the hallowed ground.
Dug this old thing up from the archives. I wrote it as a Halloween piece several years ago. Yes, the subject matter is dark, but the vast majority of medieval ballads deal either with ****, ******, or ghosts. This was my take on a common theme where a lover comes back from the dead.