The Unquiet Grave

The Unquiet Grave *, a traditional English folksong, from 1916, is the forerunner to Alan Schwartz story, “Cold as Clay”. This story can be found in his first book, Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark.

This song and story are similar. Both highlight two lovers separated by death. But in the traditional song the woman dies, in Schwartz’s story, the man dies.

In both versions, the dead lover comes back as a ghost.

*  Other variations of this ballad include William and Margaret and Scarborough Fair.

The Unquiet Grave

Cold blows the wind to my true love,
And gently drops the rain,
I never had but one sweetheart,
And greenwood she lies slain.

I'll do as much for my sweetheart
As any young man many;
I'll sit and mourn all on her grave
For a twelvemonth and a day.

When the twelvemonth and one day was past,
The ghost began to speak;
Why sittest here all on my grave,
And will not let me sleep?

There's one thing that I want, sweetheart,
There's one thing that I crave,
And that is a kiss from your lilly-white lips
Then I'll go from your grave.

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

Go fetch me water from the desert,
And blood from out of a stone;
Go fetch me milk from a fair maid's breast
That a young man never had known.

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

The stalk is wither'd and dry, sweetheart,
And the flower will never return;
And since I lost my own sweetheart,
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.

Here is one version of The Unquiet Grave song.

Whereas the song picks up the story after the true love has died, in Alvin Schwartz’s tale, Cold as Clay the backstory for this tragedy is described.

A farmer’s daughter is denied her love and sent to live with relatives. Her male lover dies of a broken heart. The farmer regrets his mistake and cannot tell his daughter her lover has died.

Her lover appears to bring her home. She goes with him, not knowing he is a ghost.

Here is Schwartz’s version.

Rings on Her Fingers

This traditional ghost tale is about a grave robber who digs up a female corpse in order to steal her jewelry.

This modern version, which is often shared with children, is based upon an old English/Irish folktale entitled, The Thievish Sexton.

I share another ghost story in this subset entitled The Golden Arm, here.

A classic popular American version is, The First Snowfall Ghost, which I share here and another English version is The Cripplegate Ghost, which I share here.

All of these versions have the basis premise that a body is dug up in order to rob it of its jewelry. These stories never end well for the “robber” normally pays in some way at the end.

Most versions have the robber having to cut off fingers to steal the jewelry at which point the corpse wakes up—having been mistaken for dead and then buried alive.

In Rings on Her Fingers these traditional elements are included. Alvin Schwartz shares this story in his book, Scary Stories to tell in the Dark. A recording of this story is below.

Here is a shortened version of the story:

Florence Wynsham took ill and fell into a coma. The doctors could do nothing for her and to the grief of her husband she died. He had her buried in a small cemetery at the edge of town—making sure she wore her golden promise and wedding rings

In the middle of the following night a gravedigger entered this cemetery with the express purpose to steal her jewelry.  He carried a lantern and shovel with him.

The dirt around her grave was fresh and soft so it did not take him long to hit the top of her wooden coffin with his shovel. He quickly pried the lid off.

In the moonlight he spotted the sparkling golden rings. He tried to remove them but they were stuck. He decided the only way to retrieve the rings was to cut fingers off the corpse.

He took out his pocketknife and sliced the first finger with it. To his horror the finger started to bleed. He heard a rustling sound and the corpse began to stir.

Suddenly, she sat straight up in the coffin. Terrified, the grave robber dropped his lantern. Now only darkness surrounded him. He felt ten cold fingers encircle his neck.

He screamed and scrambled out of the grave. He blindly ran not caring about the direction as long as it took him away from the coffin.

As he quickened his steps he dared not look back. In the pitch darkness he did not realize he was headed for a steep cliff. He stumbled and fell over this cliff.

He hit the rocks below. The knife he still held pierced his heart as he hit the bottom and he died.

The following is the recording of Alvin Schwartz’ version.

Campfire Story: Vinder Viper

Is it a snake?

I don’t think so…

Years ago a man inherited a house from his uncle when he died.

He packed up and moved to the large home that sat on a hill outside the town where he was raised.

He settled in and set out to meet his new neighbors. Everyone he met looked concerned when he mentioned he lived in the mansion on the hill. Curious, he finally asked one woman, “Why are you surprised I live in my Uncle’s home?”

She shook her head and told him, “That place is haunted, everyone knows that.”

The man was a worrier and over the next few days what the woman had told him nagged at him. He imagined all kinds of terrible things.

One evening as he got ready for bed his phone rang.

He answered it and heard, “I am the Vinder Viper. I will be there in one week.” Then the line went dead.

Thinking it must be a wrong number the man forgot about it.

Three days later his phone rang again just as he went to bed.

“I am the Vinder Viper. I will be there in 4 days.”

The man now became nervous. While in town the next day he asked if anyone knew a Vinder Viper. No one knew what he was talking about.

The man now was nervous and concerned.

Three days later his phone rang again late at night.

“I am the Vinder Viper. I will be there tomorrow.”

The man could no longer hold back---he was frightened.

He waited all the next day but nothing happened. He was relieved as he prepared to go to bed that evening.

Then the phone rang.

“I am the Vinder Viper. I will be there in 1 hour.”

In a panic the man made sure all the doors and windows were locked then he called the police.

57 minutes later his phone rang and rang. The man took comfort in the fact the police were on their way. He answered the phone.

“ I am the Vinder Viper. I will be there in 1 minute.”

His doorbell rang. He ran down the stairs to answer it thinking it must be the police. He opened the door just a crack and asked, “Is that the police?”

He opened the door a little further. 

A small man holding a bucket and rags announced,” No, I am the Vinder Viper. I come every month to vash and vipe the vindows.”

As the man went back upstairs he could not believe how silly he had acted.

He opened the door to his bedroom and there in the middle of the floor stood the ghost of his UNCLE.

He fainted dead away.

Click to enlarge

In Alvin Schwartz’s book, Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark he shares another version of this classic scary children’s story. Click graphic to enlarge to read his version.





An audio version is below.