Sinead O'Connor popularised "I am Stretched on Your Grave". That version is in the Digital Tradition database. I think Philip King, who recorded "I am Stretched on Your Grave" with Scullion before Sinead O'Connor did, was responsible for that version of the song.[as earlier messages on this thread confirm] I found the following older lyrics in "Songs of the Irish", compiled by Dónal O'Sullivan and published by Mercier of Cork, Ireland.

Táim Sínte ar do Thuama

Táim sínte ar do thuama,
Is do gheóir ann do íor mé
Dá mbeadh barr do dhá lámh agam
Ní sgarfainn leat choíche.
A úilin is a ansacht,
Is am domh-sa luí leat,
Tá bola fuar na cré orm,
Dath na gréine 's na gaoithe!

Tá cló ar mo croí-se
Tá líonta le grá dhuit,
Lionndubh ar thaobh thíos de
Chomh cíordhubh le h-áirne
Is má bhaineann aon ní dhom
'S go gclaoifeadh an bás mé,
Bead-sa im' shí gaoithe
Romhat thíos ar na bánta!

Nuair is dó le mo mhuintir
Go mbím-se ar mo leaba,
Ar do thuama 'sea bhím sínte
Ó oíche go maidin:
A' cur síos mo chruatan
'S a' crua-ghol go daingean.
Tré mo chailín ciúin stuama
Do luadh liom 'n-a leanbh!


Literal translation by Dónal O'Sullivan:

I lie on your grave,
And you will find me there always;
If I had your two hands in mine
I would part from you never.
My fond one, my dearest,
It is time for me to lie with you,
The cold smell of the earth is on me,
The hue of the sun and of the wind!

There is a mark(graven) on my heart
That is filled with love for you,
While the melancholy beneath it
Is as black as a sloe.
and if anything happens to me
And death were to lay me low,
I shall be as a whirlwind
Before you, down in the meadows!

When my people supppose
That I am in bed,
It is on your grace that I am lying
From night until morning;
Giving vent to my distress
And weeping bitterly
For my gentle, modest maid
That was betrothed to me while yet a child!


Poetic translation by Edmund Walsh:

From the cold sod that's o'er you
I never shall sever;
Were my hands twined in yours, love,
I'd hold them for ever,
My fondest, my fairest,
we may now sleep together,
I've the cold earth's damp odour,
And I'm worn from the weather!

This heart, filled with fondness,
Is wounded and weary,
A dark gulf beneath it
Yawns jet-black and dreary,
When death comes, a victor,
In mercy to greet me,
On the wings of the whirlwind
In the cold wastes you'll meet me!

When the folk of my household
Suppose I am sleeping,
On your cold grave till morning
The lone watch I'm keeping:
My grief to the night wind
For the mild maid to render,
Who was my betrothed
Since infancy tender!